


Thoroughly Modern-ish Millie

by LavendersBlue11



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Slow Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, i just want everyone to be happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:22:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 52,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27734509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LavendersBlue11/pseuds/LavendersBlue11
Summary: Mildred Miller, known as Millie to her friends and family is stuck in a long term relationship that's not going anywhere.  10 years and nowhere but adrift, Millie wants out, but isn't sure where to start.Bucky, having taken on new work with the Avengers, but cannot stand living at the compound, so he strikes out on his own.  He finds himself instantly attracted to his neighbor, but can't even imagine what being in a romantic relationship would mean for someone like him.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes and Original Female Character, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

Bucky Barnes had decided to move out of the Avengers compound. He was part of the team, whatever was left of it, but the constant camaraderie, the witty banter, the dinners together every night were too much for him. Sure, they were his friends, and he owed them everything, but as he explained to Rogers, he just needed a little space. He’d done so much work to try and put the pieces of his mind back together that he didn’t think he’d get a true, honest to god crack at life if he was always surrounded by his coworkers. 

“C’mon Sam, it’s time to cut the apron strings. You can still call me whenever you need me.”

Sam looked at him meaningfully as the closest thing he had to a confidante slung a duffel bag holding the last of his personal items over his shoulders.

“All right. Don’t do anything stupid.” 

“You got it, punk.” 

Bucky grinned back at him. 

Internally though, as could be expected from a man whose brain had been jostled about dozens of times, he was having a bit of a final convincing process. 

_ It’s fine. I’m fine. Everyone is gonna be fine, too.  _

Walking into the elevator, he exchanged a final wordless wave with Sam as the door closed, breathing a sigh of relief. He was going back home. 

\-- 

Bucky had chosen the apartment in Greenpoint because it was in Brooklyn, and the owner hadn’t messed with the inside too much. And it was in a brownstone. Maybe if he went back to where he’d been before all of it happened, he’d get the chance at a do over. Sure, he still had to do dangerous things in his line of work, but a career outside of punching people seemed unlikely at this stage in the game. 

Brooklyn was a lot different today than it was in 1943, that was for sure. This wasn’t necessarily a good or bad thing, but it simply existed. Bucky had worked on that a lot in therapy. Things just are what they are. He turned the corner onto Oak, feeling pretty excited about the prospect of being able to do whatever he wanted when he finally got home. He’d hired movers to take the boxes he’d dug out of an ancient storage facility that had everything he was aware of that still existed from his family and retained an assistant (a Stark intern really) to help him get situated. The poor girl had asked him all sorts of questions about everything from what paint colors he wanted in his bedroom (blue) to what kind of couch would be best (anything that would seat him comfortably) to helping him coordinate the timing of everything. He made it clear to her he didn’t want to have to make the decisions about unpacking and putting things away. He honestly had no idea what to expect when he opened the door, but he knew anything would be better than waking up in a HYDRA facility. 

_ Well this is it.  _

He rummaged in his pocket for the keys, dropping them in the foyer clumsily, which given he had the capability to move just about anywhere undetected was very silly. He looked at the other mailboxes in the building. There was a parcel on the floor addressed to Mildred Miller.  _ Not many ladies named Mildred these days _ , he thought. She must have been older. Maybe they’d have something in common he scoffed. 

Glancing at the mailboxes, he noted M. Miller & E. Schmidt lived on the first floor. He memorized where the door to their apartment was. Just in case. He wished he could stop doing things just in case, but that was something he could work through later. 

——-

Millie Miller (yes really) had lived in the building for a few years with her boyfriend Erick. They walk up was nice, one bedroom, vintage style, and they moved there when they were in love. Deeply in love. 

But Millie didn’t think that was going to last much longer. Erick had started taking on a lot more work, staying out later and later to meet with “clients” that she was sure were not work related at all. He’d just...stopped answering his phone. Texts went unanswered, and probably most grimly, he just didn't come home some nights. 

She kept it to herself though. She didn’t think she’d find anyone else at this point. Dating in New York was a free for all, and she’d rather tough it out than be alone. 

Millie had grown up hard. Her parents were drinkers who never spent money or attention on their children, and she rarely saw them. Her sister Liz had raised them alone, their parents around just enough for them to not be taken away.. Her only solace was her sister and books. The library was free. The librarians never asked her to leave. 

When it came time to leave home, Millie went to SUNY, worked at a grocery store to try and pay for books, and decided to become a high school lit teacher. 

On her first day in her classroom, she remembered thinking how sweet it was that she’d made it, even though the only thing her parents gave her was her grandmother’s name, which she had never grown into. Who named a baby Mildred? Drunks. That’s who.

She met Erick a year later at Goldie’s. That was 9 years ago. They moved in together 8 years ago, and since then, it was like their relationship had frozen. She thought he might still love her, but there wasn’t a ring on her finger, or even talk of one. 

But she stayed. Where else was she gonna go?

This warm September day, though, she was feeling pretty good. Her students were devouring  _ The Great Gatsby _ with a fervor she didn’t think was possible, and she’d given them an assignment to create a playlist for the book that they felt fit the tone. Seeing anyone else get so excited about a book as she had been at their age made the not so great parts of her job bearable, and she had a little pep in her step as she made her way home. 

She turned onto Oak St, observing a man she’d never seen before fiddling with keys to open the door of their building. Even from afar, she could tell he was handsome. He was tall, his body looked powerful, and yet he had an air of absolutely no confidence. He was fit, certainly, a duffle bag at his feet. The new guy. That’s right. She’d forgotten that Lillian, the old woman who had lived upstairs, had moved out to live with her granddaughter. Well, this was new. She wondered what he did for a living. Finance? 

Nah, his hair was too long and his face too stubbly for that. 

She slowed her pace a little so she didn’t disturb him, even though she wanted to explain to him how to handle the doorknob when it was this warm out. She felt a tiny electric spark at just seeing him from afar, and given the coldness of her own relationship, there was no way she needed to be reminded of it. Maybe she’d go introduce herself. Maybe she could bring him something to welcome him to the building. She’d think about it. 

—

A few days later, Bucky realized that he now got mail, and that he should probably check it. He smelled her before he saw her the first time. A problem with having heightened senses. Coffee. Lavender. Something kind of salty. He rounded the stairs and saw her balancing a tube of some kind on her back, along with a pocketbook and a tote bag with some carrot stems peeking out of the top. 

She was fiddling with the doorknob, muttering under her breath. 

“Shit shit shit shit come on.”

He still was wary of people he didn’t know, but she gave him pause. Her hair, which seemed to be quite long and a lovely dark blond color was spun up in a sloppy bun, stray hairs all around her face. . She reminded him of someone. A face from another lifetime ago. Ava Gardner. She looked like Ava Gardner. A long, proud nose, full lips, high thick brows. 

But instead of the daring evening gowns Ms Gardner was often wearing on screen, this woman was wearing the skin tight pants every woman in his neighborhood seemed to wear everywhere. As an old geezer getting his memory back, he was a little bit scandalized when he saw dozens of women walking around with painted on pants, which in his line of work usually only were used for tactical purposes. These folks were just walking around town. Sam explained yoga pants to him, a twinkle in his eyes. 

She bent down to put the pocketbook and the groceries down, and Bucky got an absolute eyeful of her big round ass. Something stirred. He wasn’t supposed to feel  _ that _ way. 

Maybe when Shuri took out all the shit Hydra had dumped into his brain, old stuff had been knocked loose. He’d not really been in a position to question that previously, as he’d been so focused on surviving, so focused on getting through everything that this was really the first time he’d been able to just….be. In years. 

He remembered the girls of yore. Hats, stockings, the lipstick taste that would coat his mouth, being scolded for mussing their carefully hair. 

“Christ. Finally.” 

She had finally got the knob working. Could...that be Mildred? Maybe Mildred’s daughter. He wasn’t ready to ask. She kicked the groceries and other items over the door jamb and closed it behind her. 

_ Ava Gardner with a big ass _ . He smirked as he stuck his key in the mailbox.  _ You stay out of trouble now _ , he said internally, not sure if it was to her or to himself. 

—-

Millie sat on the couch in a new velvet dress, waiting dumbly for Erick to show up. Erick was late again, but the difference was that tonight was their anniversary. He knew. They had talked about it this morning. She didn’t understand why you would have the ability to communicate with anyone at any time and just not...respond, especially after several frantic calls. They had long ago missed their reservation, and Millie kicked her shoes off and took her hair down. She’d put it up for their date tonight, and she’d gotten new heels for the occasion to go with the dress. and even though she should have been upset, she was just...sad and dejected. 

She dialed her sister's number and Liz answered on the first ring. 

“Hey! Happy Anniversary!” 

“Hi Liz.” 

Liz could always tell when she was upset. 

“Mil, what happened?”

She sighed deeply. 

“He’s not here. He’s late, again. I’m sitting here in like…$1,000 worth of new clothes to try and get him to pay attention to me, but he can’t even show up.”

Liz was quiet. She exhaled deeply. 

“So what are you going to do?” 

Liz and Millie had been fighting about this for weeks now. Liz was just trying to protect her, she reasoned,  _ honey you deserve better _ , she would plead. Millie wouldn’t hear it. _I_ __t’_ s ten years! That’s all of your 20s.  _

“I don’t know yet, but I think I’m...coming around to your point.”

The Miller sisters had always had trouble with men and abandonment. Liz was married, and on her way out of her New York apartment, onto the house they’d bought in Jersey. Erick was, outside of Liz and a handful of other friends, the only person she really confided in. 

“Ok, listen, I don’t know what comes tomorrow and neither do you, but you put your shoes back on and meet me and Jake at Capri. We can talk more then? Have a couple bevs and try to have a good time?”

Millie paused. That would certainly be better than waiting around. She sighed. 

“Fine. Be there in 15.”

She fixed her hair, braiding into a French braid rather than the elaborate situation she’d had going before. She re-applied her lipstick, and grabbed her purse, draping a jacket over her arm, and slid back into her black pumps, the shoes going on smoothly over her black tights. 

She closed the door behind her, and turned to see her hot new neighbor. She smiled at him 

"Hey," she said before heading down the steps , moving at almost at a cantor before disappearing in a cloud of perfume and velvet down their block, her braid bouncing on her shoulder. 

He was dumbfounded. She’d opened the door, come out looking exactly like one of the girls Bucky would have chased in his youth, with her wearing a soft velvet number with tights and black pumps, lips painted a dark red, and she smiled at him, her big white teeth gleaming in the yellowed light of their building’s foyer. 

Next time, he’d have to say something to her. He decided then. He kept seeing her just walk in or walk out, and she was always in a hurry, and always alone. He wondered who E.Schmidt was. Roommate, husband? Whoever they were, they didn’t seem to be around much. 

It had been a long day for Bucky. He’d just arrived home from a mission and was looking forward to sleeping in his own bed again, but seeing her again was like a shot in the arm, and as he sat on the couch eating a piece of toast with a book propped in his metal arm, he kept replaying the smile in his head, over and over. He put the book down after realizing he’d been staring at the same page for 45 minutes without having read any of it. 

Since he’d moved here, spent his time reading books and taking walks around Brooklyn, trying to understand or remember. Seeing her dolled up like that reminded him of going dancing in his sergeant's uniform, a pretty lady bashfully taking his hand during a slow song. She even said something to him. _Hey._ Her voice was deeper than he thought it would be. 3 weeks of being in the building, catching glimpses of her and she finally spoke first. _Hey._

__

—-

Once Millie reached the Capri, Liz and Jake waved her over to their table. 

Jake let out a low whistle. 

“You look great.”

“Thanks, I just hope I can return it.”

“Nah, you should keep it, Mil. It’s a great dress,” Liz smiled sympathetically. She was trying to keep it light. 

“I might. I don’t know. I’m Having a hard time with...deciding anything.”

“Ok, let’s get you a drink. What’ll you have?”

“Whiskey soda? With lime?”

“You got it. Jakey, will you go get us set up?”

Jake nodded and stood. 

“Alright, so really Mil, what’s going on with you and Erick?”

“I really think it’s over, but I can’t...make myself go. I don’t want to move out of our place, and—“

“I’m gonna stop you right there. If the only reason you can think of to stay with Erick is your apartment, then...maybe it’s time. I’m not pushing you, but…” Liz trailed off. 

“I mean, I think someone has to. This thing has been DOA for years at this point. I just...need to figure out how to do it.”

Liz nodded solemnly as Jake made his way back to the table with their drinks. 

“Well. Happy Anniversary, Mil. May the next one be better.”

They clinked glasses.  _ There’s not gonna be a next one,  _ she thought. 

—-

She walked home that night, and once she turned on to Oak, she took her shoes off. Her feet were killing her, and she didn’t really care about the tights she was wearing. It was a nice, barely chilly autumn evening, and she lollygagged down the sidewalk, enjoying the trees changing and the pleasant burn of the couple of whiskeys she’d had.  _ Good thing it was Friday. _

Bucky noticed her dawdling out front while standing at the window brushing his teeth before lights out. She had her shoes in her hands, not a care in the world for her ruined tights. She stretched her arms up high and her dress went along with it, giving Bucky a good look at her legs. He shook his head slowly.  _ This is unreal. _

Millie paused though, having noticed something hiding under the lip of the first step on the stoop. She bent over to retrieve it, and Bucky leaned in, his face almost touching the glass of the window. It l ooked like a wallet from his vantage point. 

He observed her opening it, noticing the rigidity that took over her stance after doing so. 

Millie dropped the wallet. It was Erick’s. The object felt cursed. He had time to come home, but no time to call her, to talk to her. Her face twisted into a painful, contorted grimace and she began to cry. Alcohol and emotion don’t mix well. 

Bucky sighed. He finally put together that E. Schmidt and M. Miller together, and it didn’t seem to be going well. He’d done so much to upend lives over the past 6 decades that he thought it would be best if he stayed out of it as much as he wanted to run down the stairs and scoop her up, bring her up here, and lavish her with everything she wasnt getting from the other guy, but he couldn’t do that. That’s not how it worked. He didn’t even know if he could handle interacting with a woman in a romantic way. _And she's not available, you bird brain._ He raked his metal arm through his hair, not noticing that it had fallen in front of his eyes. 

_ Well. That’s that.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Millie went inside, dropping her shoes loudly. That fucker. 

She went to the kitchen and drank a huge glass of water before deciding she had to ride the wave of her feelings and do this now. Why not! 

Clomping down the short hallway, she opened the door to the bedroom she hadn’t been in at night in weeks, given that she’d been falling asleep on the couch while grading her students’ work. Rudely flipping on the lights, Erick stirred a bit, but when she ripped the duvet off of him, he woke up. 

“Get up,” she said more loudly than she intended. 

“Mil,” he rubbed his eyes “hon, I had such a long day, can we talk about it tomorrow?” 

“No, Erick. No we can’t.”

“What did you want me to do? I had to work.”

“We have been planning this date for weeks. I refuse to believe that you couldn’t have taken 5 minutes to call me and tell me you weren’t coming,” she grabbed his arm, “come on Erick, face me. I’m still here!” 

She was shouting at this point, which reached the ears of a certain Bucky Barnes listening intently tucked in his bed.

He put his feet on the floor tentatively, sliding back into his pants in case he had to...diffuse anything.  _ Be careful, doll. That guy is bad news.  _

“Fine, Millie. Fine. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to go because I cannot stand to look at you another day. Is that what you wanted to hear?” he shouted back. 

Millie. She goes by Millie. Hearing it felt like a revelation. Millie. He reminded himself to focus. It would be very bad to have police show up. His name had been cleared, but that didn’t mean he knew how he’d handle that situation. He also couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t climb down the fire escape to bust Erick’s head open for talking to her that way. 

“Why won’t you let me go? If you don’t love me, why won’t you do it?” 

Millie was crying and shouting at this point. Bucky felt a tug at his chest. He didn’t even know her and he wanted everything. Stuff he’d never thought of before. 

“I can’t answer that. You’re convenient. You’re here.”

“You have not touched me in two years. I can’t keep doing this Erick.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. He wasn’t a relationship expert, but that didn’t sound good. He heard footsteps. 

“Where are you going?!”

“Millie. There’s someone else.”

Bucky felt awful that he, who had lived here for less than a month, knew that before this poor girl’s live in boyfriend. 

She’d be kidding herself if she didn’t know that already. She did. It still stung her. She took a deep breath in and steadied herself. 

“I want you out. You have until tomorrow. Get out.”

Bucky heard jostling of clothing and objects, hoping that wasn’t Millie being moved around. 

“Bitch, I’m out now!” 

Erick put his shoes on and made his way to the door with his work backpack. 

“And by the way, Millie, I never loved you.” 

“GET. OUT.”

“Lots of luck, Millie.” 

Bucky heard the sound glass shattering and the door slamming, thinking Millie had probably narrowly missed him before Erick made his way to the door. He looked to the window. At least the fucker lost his wallet. 

—-

Millie swept the glass from the ugly vase Erick’s mother gave her two christmases ago into a pile and scooped it into a trash bag. She couldn’t stop the guttural crying or blurred vision. She knew people said hurtful things they didn’t mean when they were hurt, but she couldn’t sit with the fact that Erick never loved her. That was a lie. 

But she still got what she wanted. She wiped her face with her tea towel, and picked up a bottle of scotch that had been a gift from one of Erick’s clients, if that were even true, and a tumbler and opened the front door. She plopped onto the stoop, and thought that at least maybe she could enjoy what was left of this beautiful night. 

  
  


When he heard the door open again, he snapped into dorm, thinking it was Erick. As soon as the first door slam happened, he put his shoes on. He wasn’t going to sleep tonight. He had to make sure he didn’t come back. Not just for Millie, but for him too. 

He peeked out the window, noticing a crumpled woman sitting on the stoop. Before he knew what he was doing, he was on the stoop. 

She didn’t turn when he opened the door. Her spirit broken, she just took another long pull of whiskey. 

Bucky cleared his throat, and in between sips, Millie spoke. 

“You must be B. Barnes.”

“Bucky.”

“I’d ask what kind of name is Bucky, but I’m a 32 year old Mildred, so I’ll leave that alone.”

She emptied her glass and filled it again. 

“I’d offer you a drink, Bucky, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t be great company right now.”

“I couldn’t help but hear.”

She sighed. 

“I’m sorry. I know it was loud.”

“I wanted to make sure you were ok.”

She pressed her head into her elbows folded atop her knees, and Bucky noted that she was shaking with tears.  _ God, fuck that guy.  _

Not wanting to overstep his boundaries, he plopped himself on the other side of the stoop, giving her plenty of space. She picked her head up to look at him, her face blotchy and streaked with tears, hair coming out of her braid, her lipstick worn out in the center since she hadn’t reapplied. A concerned smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. She still looked absolutely incredible to him. 

“I’m fine.” 

She said it warmly, graciously.  _ They’re green _ . He’d been wondering what color her eyes were. 

“Listen, sweetheart, I know you don’t know me, and I promise I’m not trying any funny business, but...I don’t think you’re fine.”

Millie couldn’t help but laugh.  _ Who was this guy? He sounds like a hard boiled detective.  _ Little did she know she was kind of right. That was the other thing Bucky noticed right away: She didn’t know who he was. Since the blip, the reversal, and everything else, he felt lucky that he could kind of fly under the radar, though he never knew how into all of this shit the average person was. He was relieved to know that she didn’t seem to know him from Adam. 

  
  


She slid the bottle across the stoop roughly in his direction. 

“Help yourself.”

This felt like opening a door. 

“Well. Are you gonna tell me?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“I don’t think it matters if I do, I just know sometimes...it helps to talk. And I wanna know if you got him before he got out the door.”

Without putting his mouth on the bottle, he tipped a shot into his throat. He really hated to drink, hated anything that didn’t give him the sense of total control, but rules were meant to be broken. 

She emptied her glass into her mouth again and wiped her eyes. 

“No, I missed. It’s 10 years today. No proposal. No commitment. Didn’t show up for our date today. My sister has been trying to get me to dump him, tonight I finally did.”

_ 10 years. They made it through the Snap together.  _ He nodded. She kept going. 

“There’s someone else. He said he never loved me. I...was hoping he’d finish it, but now that I got what I wanted...I’d be lying to you if I said I wasn’t worried about what happens next.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m 32. He’s the only relationship I’ve ever been in. I grew up with him. I might not meet anyone else.”

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair. This was unfamiliar turf. When one of his sisters came home crying about some dumb boy, he’d usually just go pound the guy, but he got the sense you weren’t really supposed to do that. 

“I know I’m just your neighbor, but I think you’re gonna be ok. It hurts now, but you’re gonna be better having gone through it.”

She gave B. Barnes a watery smile. She didn’t believe him, but he was kind to say it nonetheless. He had an air of being someone who had seen some shit. It was only then she noticed the metal arm. Bucky registered the look he often got either recognized him or noticed it, and he had the sleeves of his henley pushed up.  _ Shit _ . 

“Accident. Good doctors.”

He held it up so she could see it better. She nodded. 

“That’s incredible.”

“Thanks.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes more. Millie felt, all things considered, as if the pain broiling within her was quieter. She stood up shakily, debris from the porch falling off her velvet dress, taking her glass but leaving the bottle. Bucky reached up to try and steady her as she wobbled. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, don’t fall.”

“I’m ok.”

“You had half a bottle of whiskey.”

Bucky grabbed the bottle and stood. 

“I’ll be ok.”

“Alright. Well, you know where to find me. If you need a sympathetic ear.”

She smiled at him again, and despite the fact that she was a slightly wilted version of the confident bubbly woman he’d seen leaving earlier, her smile made his heart flutter. He handed the bottle back to her, trying not to give her an up and down 

“Thank you for listening to me, Bucky.”

“Sleep tight, Millie.”

—-

_ Water _ . That was her first thought. Staring up at the ceiling, Millie knew she would feel horrendous when she sat up. She hadn’t had that much to drink in such a long time. But her dry mouth couldn’t be ignored any longer. She looked around the bedroom she’d shared with Erick, the previous night being the first time she’d slept in there in quite a while. She’d never really decorated this room. It’d always been somewhat intimidating, so there was only a dresser and the mattress. No art, no plants, no textures, which were abundant in the rest of her apartment. Then she remembered  _ him.  _ Icy blue eyes, the perfect stubble, the long hair. He was the anti-Erick, and that was probably why she was thinking about it that way. 

Putting her feet on the floor, she checked her phone and saw a deluge of missed texts and calls.  _ Fuck _ . 

She texted Liz back first. 

_ Hey, it finally happened. We’ll talk later. I am hungover as shit.  _

_ OMG mils are you ok? Call me?  _

_ I met the guy upstairs. He’s...TDH. I promise I’ll call after I have coffee.  _

Liz sent back a smiley face. He was though! Tall, dark, handsome. _ What does that say about me that I”m already thirsting after the neighbor having been single all of 12 minutes? _

She opened the cabinet where she kept the coffee only to discover that there was none. Cursing, she remembered asking Erick to pick some up on his way home, and of course he didn’t. Of course. 

She drank a giant glass of water and ate a banana as quickly as she could, trying to get some water and carbs into her system, before pulling on some leggings and a sweatshirt. She ran her fingers through her hair and pulled it into a low ponytail. She grabbed her purse and slipped on her Birks before running out the door to the coffee shop. 

It was another gorgeous fall day, and at least she had that. She grabbed a table outside while she sipped her cold brew. She made a to do list laughing to herself as she wrote the title. 

**Millie’s New Life**

  * Tell the guy upstairs thank you.
  * Get rid of everything that belonged to Erick. 
  * Call Erick and tell him to come get it. If he doesn't, throw it away. 
  * Decorate the bedroom. 



Might as well start at the top. She took her empty glass inside and ordered a black coffee to go. She got the sense that he was pretty no frills, so she took a chance. 

Opening the door to their building, she checked her teeth in the hallway mirror their landlord had hung up probably sometime in the 1970s. She was good there. The bags under her eyes were different, but there wasn’t a ton she could do about that. 

She made her way up the stairs and stood in front of his door, her fist hovering over the door for just a moment before knocking softly. 

Maybe he wasn’t home she thought as she waited, mortified that she was here.  _ What am I doing? Last night was a wellness check.  _

He opened the door though, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“Um. Hey. Bucky, right?” 

“You’re lookin’ at him,” he smiled. 

“I...um...well...I…” 

“It’s ok.” 

“I brought you this.” 

Millie felt the heat rising into her cheeks as she held her hand out to give him the coffee, and Bucky cocked his head before taking it gently, the delicious scent of hot coffee filling his nostrils.

“I didn’t know how you took it, so I guessed. I kept you up pretty late last night, and I feel bad. You really didn’t have to do that. So, thank you.” 

_ That’s where you’re wrong. I wasn’t going to leave you out there.  _

“It’s no trouble. Thanks.” 

He took a sip. Black. She knew. 

“Mmm, not a bad guess.” 

His eyes were twinkling in amusement, and Millie felt embarrassed since she could feel them boring a hole into her

“Anyway, thanks. I needed a friend last night.”

“‘Course.” 

“This is awkward, but..can I have your phone number? You’re my neighbor and all. We should know how to contact each other.” 

_ Does this mean she’s staying in the building?  _ He had briefly thought that maybe there was a chance she could downsize and move to a smaller place, and he’d have to figure out how to keep in touch with her as a bumbling moron with only arcane knowledge of how to interact with other people. Stuff like this, working out like this, it didn’t happen often, and Bucky knew that. 

“Sure, yeah, that makes sense,” and he read his phone number to her as she punched it into her phone. 

“Hold on, let me text ya.” 

She bit her bottom lip, and typed out a message. 

“There. Now you have my number.” 

His phone vibrated. 

_ Hi, this is Millie <3  _

After seeing the little purple heart at the end of her sentence, he was going to have to ask Sam what emojis meant in certain contexts, because he was sure this was nothing, but also...she was being awfully forward with him. He was sort of frozen in place. 

“Ok, I’m gonna get out of your hair. Thanks again. For being there.” 

He wanted to invite her in, start asking her questions, learn more about her, but he thought that was too forward. Next time. Maybe. 

“Anytime,” he managed, giving her a tiny salute with his cup in his hand. 

She smiled at him, and was gone again just as she’d come, leaving Bucky with a cup of cooling coffee with the door open as he watched her go down the stairs, her long ponytail bouncing behind her. 

_ Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave.  _


	3. Chapter 3

As early September turned over into October, Millie moved all of Erick’s things out with Liz’s help, got asked to direct the fall play at school, painted her bedroom and got new bedding, went to yoga every day, and cut her long, thick hair into a kicky shag. She felt great. 

She ran into Bucky on her way back from the salon, bagel in hand, feeling rather self conscious. 

“Well don’t you look like a million bucks!” 

“Ugh thanks, I don’t know yet.”

“I think it looks great. Really works for ya.”

“Thanks, I kind of let the stylist pick for me. Needed a change.”

“I’m going to get breakfast, do you want anything?”

She held up the bag with her bagel, “nope, got it covered. Thanks, though.”

“Next time,” he half grinned as he unlatched the gate. Millie entered her apartment and exhaled deeply. He was gonna be the death of her. The half grin, the sassy compliments. 

They talked almost every day either via text or in the little outdoor space behind their building, going into each other’s homes felt too intimate still. In spite of that, Bucky knew just about everything, including the names of some of her students, about her sister and Jake, her parents not being in the picture, Liz raising them. 

He’d noticed she’d been getting home much later than usual, then she told him she was directing The Crucible for the fall play at her school. He went out and bought a copy so he could read it. In addition to trying to catch up on 80 years of missed events, pop culture and social norms, he wanted to know what she was getting up to, to be interested in what she pursued. 

Having hard time imagining high schoolers performing these roles, he asked her about it, and her face lit up. She was so proud of these kids, so many of whom were of incongruous ages because of the Blip. 

_ If I’d had a teacher like you, I might have paid attention more _ . 

Bucky wanted a lot more than he was letting on, but as soon as things went forward, as soon as more than the casual friendly hug came into the picture, he was going to have to start explaining things, and he didn’t know how to do that yet. 

  
  


—-

Bucky and Sam had a long conversation about dating in the 21st century during target practice a few days later. Sam told him if he was ready to get back out there, there were some things he’d need to keep aware of. 

“First of all, ladies like the chivalry, but they want to be acknowledged as capable of doing it themselves.” He squeezed the trigger and effortlessly took down the target. 

Bucky thought back to seeing Millie and her sister trying to shove a massive Art Deco dresser up the stoop by themselves. They were laughing and screaming the entire time. Had he not been late to catch his ride to the Avengers compound, he would have certainly tried to help. He could have sworn that as he made his way down the street he heard the sister comment on the way he looked. “Hot as shit” is what he think he heard, chuckling to himself as he found the black unmarked car.

Sam reloaded.

“Secondly, save the grand gestures until later. Keep it simple. Coffee. A drink. A movie. Always give her a second to pretend to pay, then pay anyway. And also, women think a lot of the stuff you and Rogers would have gotten up to back in the day is creepy.”

“What do you mean by that?” 

“The walking home, the asking her parents if you can court her, you know what I mean.”

Bucky gave him the side eye. 

“You clearly didn’t know me then.”

“Ooooh so that’s how it is, huh Barnes?”

“You are so lucky you’re holding a gun.”

“Anyway, is there a woman you have in mind or are you just ready to try and date?”

“It’s something I’m considering. Can’t be a monk forever.” 

“Have you thought about getting on one of those apps? Might be a good way for you to meet girls and test the waters.” 

Bucky shrugged. He only had one girl in mind, but maybe he ought to practice before trying. 

“The other thing is...women today are definitely more...uh...frisky?” 

“You DEFINITELY didn’t know me then,” Bucky rolled his eyes, “No one lived together before gettin’ married, but we were still, what did you call it? Hooking up.” 

Bucky peeled off a shot after Sam stepped away. 

“Well, either way, Sarge, you’re gonna have to tell me all about it when it happens.” 

He might as well tell him. 

“She’s a teacher. She’s my neighbor.” 

“Uh huh…” Sam smiled cheekily. 

“I don’t know. She’s so kind. She doesn’t know who I am, and it’s...it’s honestly, refreshing.”

“And she looks like…”

“Ava Gardner with a big ass. Or at least that is how I see her. It feels like more than that though. She just got out of a long, bad relationship and she has no idea who I am or what I’ve done, and so I don’t...know.”

“Sounds like you’ve had plenty of time to think about that description.” 

Sam nodded again, having never seen Bucky this emotionally vulnerable before. He finally turned to look at him and spoke again.

“You’re not that guy anymore. If you want my opinion, and I don’t know that you do, take it slow. Keep getting to know her. Worst case, you have a friend out there other than me.”

Sam shrugged. Bucky hated it when Sam was right. 

  
  


\-- 

It was tech week for Millie. Their John Proctor had come down with mono the week before, so she was carefully trying to make a puritan’s outfit made for a 16-year-old-boy who was a little tiny lightweight work for her new John Proctor who was...much larger. She sat on stage, long after all the kids had gone home, hand sewing and letting the seams out. He’d popped the side seam during dress rehearsal today, so she didn't have time to call the boy’s mother, who had volunteered to help with costumes, to come by with her sewing machine. Opening night was tomorrow, and she had to get it done. 

The theater door opened, and Bucky entered, holding a bag and a cup of coffee. 

“Well, if it isn’t B. Barnes.” 

“M. Miller. I thought you might be hungry.” he held up the bag containing a sandwich, “Maybe tired.” he said as he walked to where she was perched on the edge of the stage. He didn’t think he’d seen a woman using a sewing needle on clothing since before he left for the war. The site was comforting. 

“You would be right, I am. Hold on one second.” She smiled at him, noting that he’d never seen her wear her glasses before, her green eyes twinkling as she looked up over her tortoiseshell frames. She was wearing an oversized sweater and a pair of jeans. She’d tied the sweater into a knot just so; it stopped just where her waist nipped in, revealing a tiny triangle of skin between her high waisted pants and the sweater. Bucky would have died to touch that skin. 

She tied off the thread and bit it hard to cut it. She had no scissors, and tugged on the seams. They certainly weren’t good, but she thought they’d work.  _ Well, this is as good as it’s gonna get. Just has to last two more nights.  _

By this point, Bucky had made it over to her. He was looking around a little dumbstruck, and Millie got the sense this wasn’t who he was when he was in school. 

“You wanna come sit with me? It’s kind of fun to be here where no one else is.” 

He took the stage stairs and sat down next to her, sliding the bag toward her. 

“I got you that thing with the veggies and stuff you talk about all the time.” 

“Aw, you didn’t have to do that,” she unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite, “ugh, it’s so good. Thank you, seriously. I needed this.” 

“Yeah, i gathered,” he had gotten a couple of skull emoji texts from her, which he had learned to interpret as “not good, very bad,” in terms of how her day was going. 

“Did Bill let you in?” 

“Yeah, told him I was here to see you.” 

“Thought so. How much do I owe ya?” 

“Nah, its on me.” 

“Well, Bucky, I’m screwed. My John Proctor doesn’t know any of his lines and also his costume keeps splitting.” 

She was laughing in between sips of coffee. When Bucky had asked her how she thought high schoolers were going to be able to interpret the text that had really, legitimately moved him, she said she wasn’t sure if it would be understood as deeply by the cast as it would be by them, but all she cared about was that they would have fun and enjoy some literature. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

“It’ll be what it’ll be. I just...hope these breeches hold up. Poor kid wouldn’t ever survive his pants falling down on stage.” 

Bucky laughed heartily. He loved seeing her in her element, her legs dangling absentmindedly over the edge of the stage. Her hair tied with a silk scarf, glasses on. Millie had been through a lot the past two months, and he was heartened that she’d handled it so well. Maybe she could handle the fact that he earned his paycheck chasing down Hydra cells, or that he was born in 1917. But for now, he told her about his day at work, which Millie only knew she worked for Stark Industries and sometimes had to take longer trips, which technically wasn't a lie. 

She’d finished her sandwich, and balled the paper up. She drank the rest of the coffee and thought for a moment. She didn’t have much else to do for tomorrow. Everything else was set. 

“So, what do you say we get out of here?” 

“Are you sure? You don’t have anything else to do? I could help if...i don’t really know what I would be able to help with to be honest,” he said sheepishly. 

_ Could help ya out of that sweater.  _

“Nah, this is like trying to cram the night before a test. If it’s not done by now, it’s not gonna get done.” 

“Fair enough,” he stood, and offered his metal arm to her to help her up. 

“Thanks, Buck,” she said, hanging up the breeches on the hanger with an index card of her cast member’s name and running to put it on the rack in the dressing room. She grabbed her purse and her teacher bag, still full of papers she was going to have to grade this weekend. 

“Can I carry any of that for you?” 

“Oh no, it’s not heavy.” 

“Will you let me?” 

Millie had noticed Bucky was kind of a traditional guy. He always opened the door for her at home if he happened to be sitting outside. He once carried her groceries for her. Sometimes she noticed the way he was looking at her, like he was going to eat her up, but men had been looking at her like that since she was 12, so she didn’t think much of it. Either way, Bucky was the last of a certain breed, and she was happy he was her friend. So, she took the totebag off her shoulder and handed it to him and he gingerly held it as if he were carrying precious cargo. 

“You ready?” 

“You bet.” 

Bucky didn’t tell her he was going to the play regardless of if she invited him or not, but it came up on their walk back to the building. 

“I got you a ticket, if you wanted to come that is...if...you want to see a bunch of goofy kids perform The Crucible, which I’m sure you’ve got somewhere better to be on a Friday night.” 

_ Come on, sweetheart. When do I do anything on the weekends?  _

“Oh why not. Yeah, I'll be there.”

“Thank you.” 

\-- 

Millie pulled a black wrap dress with dolman sleeves out of the closet and stuck gold hoops into her ears. She slipped on a pair of black cowboy boots she absolutely loved and brought her luck in her mind, and swooped some of the very light rosewood lipstick she wore most days over her lips. 

She put a jacket on, and made her way to school for the opening night of the play. The majority of the production was handled by the students, so all she really had to do was coach them on how to interpret the text. 

Bucky had swapped his usual simple dark clothes for something a little dressier. He settled on grey flannel trousers and a black gingham shirt. He opted to glove his metal hand, simply not wanting to answer any questions tonight. 

He found his seat in a decent part of the middle of the theater, which he normally would not have picked since another of his old habits was mapping the quickest exit before he sat down anywhere, but he realized she was trying to make this fun for him. 

The play went off without a hitch, and Bucky found himself surprised that it was relatively...amusing. She’d done a good job.  _ Of course she did, she lives and breathes for these kids.  _

Millie came out at the end of curtain call, and she looked for Bucky, but of course until the house lights came up, she wouldn’t be able to see anyone. Her cast was VERY rambunctious, and quite eager to get out of the heavy stage makeup and onto the cast party, which Ms. M had made VERY clear she would not be attending. As she and the AV teacher finally got everything put away and wrapped, she grabbed her coat and headed out the side door, bounding down the steps. She stopped short when she saw Bucky leaning on the bike rack in front of the school, flowers wrapped in brown paper on his arm. She walked over to him and he stood up straight, offering the flowers to her.

“These are for you. Great work tonight, Frank Capra.” 

  
She laughed. 

“Bucky, you didn’t have to wait for me. You’ve probably been out here for over an hour!” 

She inhaled the fragrance of the flowers deeply. Peach colored roses, purple thistles, and silver dollar eucalyptus made for a wonderful aroma. They were gorgeous, and every time Bucky did something nice for her like this that said _I see you_ , Millie remembered how awful Erick was. She didn’t think Erick would have even shown up tonight. 

“I wanted to.” 

“Well thank you. These are beautiful. What did you think?” 

“I think you crushed it.” 

She beamed. 

“Thank you. For coming. I...It...means a lot to me.” 

_ Anything for you. You say it, I'm thinkin’ I’ll probably do it.  _

She cradled the flowers in her arm and looked up at him, his frosty eyes boring into her yet again. 

“Any time. Shall we saddle up?” 

She nodded, and they walked into the night back toward the home they shared, just on two separate floors. 

  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

“Liz, I don’t know. I haven’t done that in years” 

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun. I can’t even remember the last time I did either.” 

Liz had come by to confirm what Millie already knew. She and Jake had closed on a house, in Jersey. She couldn't hide her excitement when she told Millie, nor could Millie hide the sadness she felt that her sister was going to be a lot further than a quick walk 5 blocks over. To try and cheer her up, Liz was currently trying to convince her that they should go all out on Halloween this year, dress up, act stupid, and have one last hurrah before she and Jake moved to the suburbs, especially as they were trying to start a family. Nights out would probably be few and far between for the sisters Miller in the future. 

“Alright, what’d you have in mind?” 

“You’ll see.” 

“Uh huh.” 

Liz waggled her eyebrows up and down. 

“Think of... _The Immaculate Collection_.” 

“LIZ! No.” 

Halloweens of the past, with Erick, usually meant a goofy couples costume. Given that they had been together for ten years, Millie had never really had much of an opportunity to run wild on Halloween, and while she didn't necessarily think she'd missed out on much, she knew she had to take advantage of the time she had left with her sister in close proximity. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun, and it’ll give me something to focus on other then packing.” 

Wanting to push the thought of the move off a bit, Millie smiled sweetly at her sister. 

“Ok, I’m in.” 

“Great! Now that that’s settled, I have to know...where did these flowers come from? They’re gorgeous.” 

Liz gently brushed the flowers Bucky gave to Millie the Friday before, kicking up the aroma of roses and eucalyptus. 

“Thanks. I...don’t actually know. Bucky gave them to me after opening night.” she said lightly. 

“MILLIE! Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I don’t know, it didn’t seem like a big deal,” she shrugged as she tipped the last of her seltzer into her mouth. 

“The babe who lives upstairs gives you flowers after coming to see something you worked on, and you didn’t think it was a big deal.” 

“He’s a friend.” 

“Uh huh. Yep. Friend.” 

Millie smiled coyly, but somehow proudly at the same time. 

“He walked me home, too.”  
  
“MILLIE!” Liz squealed again, “I know it’s been about 900 years since you went on any kind of date, but I don’t know how much more clear it could be that he’s into you.” 

“I don’t think so. Way out of my league. Have you seen his arms? They’re like tree trunks.” 

“Maybe...maybe you deserve that after Erick.” 

Maybe she did. 

“I think...he's just a kind, traditional guy. I don’t know that I’m ready.” 

"Well, if he's more traditional, he's not going to bust down your door and drag you to bed." 

"Right." 

"Maybe the flowers are a quiet way of doing that?" 

Maybe. 

\-- 

A week later, on Halloween evening Liz stood in front of Millie's door, two garment bags slung over her shoulder, just as Bucky was getting back from a mission. It had been a quiet one, mostly intelligence gathering and observing, so he felt relieved. Liz waved to him as he went up the stairs as Millie opened the door. 

“Hey, TDH,” she said with a grin, "I'm the sister." 

"I know, you two were trying to move a dresser the size of an elephant up the stairs a few weeks ago." 

"And you didn't stop to help us, huh?" 

Bucky snorted. He liked her. 

Millie swatted her sister and pulled her inside and turned to the smiling man halfway up the stairs. 

“Hey Bucky! Happy Halloween!”

“Thanks, you too.”

Millie waved and then shut the door quickly, her hair up in rollers to get her hair ready for her costume. Liz worked as a designer at Calvin Klein for over a decade at this point, having gone to FIT after high school, so she knew her way around sewing machine quite well. She had spent the week after their last conversation working late into the night to get their costumes ready and she was so excited to show them to her sister. 

“Ok, are you ready for this?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I think.” 

“Did you get the things I told you to?” 

“Yeah, hold on.” 

Liz had told Millie to go out and get a white bathing suit bottom and a pair of pointy white pumps, and she did. 

“Tada! Here it is!” 

Liz unzipped the garment bag to reveal a full reproduction of Madonna’s white bridal gown from her 1984 VMA performance, down to the white belt with the Boy Toy buckle. 

“Oh my god. Is it...exact?” 

“It’s pretty damn close.” Liz smiled proudly and fussed with the flouncy textured tulle skirt, which was attached to a white bustier top. It had been a true test of her skills to try and get something with that much boning in it done in a week, but she did it. 

The only family member Liz and Millie had a relationship with growing up was with their mother’s brother. He was 15 years younger than his sister, and after noticing the total lack of interest his sister had in her children, he took them under his wing when he could. He would take them back to his loft in Chelsea and they would dance to Madonna together. As the girls got older, he taught them how to dress themselves, put on makeup, and carry themselves with an air of confidence. At least as as much of that as they could in the few hours a week he saw them. 

He’d tragically died young, but he instilled a love of Madonna and other pop divas in his nieces before he left. So Liz had decided this would be a nice send up. 

“Which one are you gonna be?” 

“The one with the cones.” she laughed hysterically. 

“Liz. You have...totally outdone yourself.” 

“I had to! It’s one of my last nights out in New York!” 

Millie and Liz exchanged a melancholy look. The silence was thick between them. 

“Alright, enough of that. Go put this thing on, I wanna see it on you.” 

Giggling and screaming like they were teenagers again, it was so nice, Millie thought. She turned on music and poured them both a glass of champagne she'd stolen from Erick before he left. After handing Liz her drink, she took the dress to her bedroom and pulled on the white fishnets Liz hung on the hanger, pulling up white bathing suit bottoms on underneath. She understood why Liz told her to get them, the dress, despite having tons of layers of tulle cut on a bias, was very, very sheer. 

She did the clasps up the front, smoothed the skirt, and put the belt on. _Boy Toy, ha._ She teased her hair up a bit and added a big pearly comb to one side to give her the proper asymmetrical early 80s Madonna ‘do. She finished off with full length lace gloves, layered necklaces, and red lipstick. She burst out laughing when she saw herself in the mirror, which Liz must of heard.

“Come out! I wanna see!”

“Liz, I look ridiculous.”

Liz and Millie were sisters, but they were built different. Millie was more muscular, slightly curvier, whereas Liz was a bit taller, more slender, and statuesque. They had the same proud nose and thick lips though, which went well with each of their respective features. Millie turned around and looked at herself from the back. 

“I guess the yoga is paying off?" 

Liz nodded. 

“Guess so," as she began to undress, pulling on a pair of black tights, "Can you help me lace up the back of this?”

In addition to Millie’s dress, Liz built a fast and easy version of the iconic corset top with cone cups from the early 90s. Millie admired the construction on it, despite being so crunched for time as she tugged at the laces.

“Is that...is that tight enough?”

“Perfect. Thank you.”

“Cool. This is...thank you, I’m really happy we’re doing this.”

“Hey, you deserve to have fun. You ready to go?”

They both stepped into their shoes and headed out the door.

—-

Bucky didn’t remember Halloween being this big of a deal. It was more for kids back in his day, so when he heard screaming and giggling outside on the stoop, he peeked out the window to see the Miller sisters standing there in what appeared to be their underwear. 

His stomach dropped. _They're gonna catch their death of cold._ The two women outside were far away from the witches and ghosts his sisters had dressed up as. 

They were taking pictures and hyping each other up. He’d not seen female camaraderie like this since his sisters used to help each other get ready for dances. He remembered Bec helping Susan roll her hair into the various popular updos of the early 40s, softly applying lipstick and giggling. He would always tell them to stay out of trouble, which he knew fell on deaf ears, but he also knew, given that he was also a man, the kinds of things they could get up to, which worried him. He realized he was worried about Millie right now. I _t's not you I don't trust, honey, it's the guys who think like me out there._ He kept listening, quietly enjoying this moment of sisterly love. 

“Millie! Look at your legs! Legs so long they go up and make an ass of themselves.” 

“Oh please, look at you! You were born for that outfit, Liz. Jake would lose his shit and fall to his knees at the sight of you right now. 

“I should send him a pic.”

“We need to get one of the two of us. Hold on.”

Bucky felt his phone vibrate, pulling him back to earth from the mush of memories and fantasizing that was swirling in his head at that moment. 

_hey! can you come take a picture of us? we’re out front if you’re home?_

He exhaled and gulped. _You’re gonna be starring in my dreams tonight, sweetheart._

 _yeah_ _sure_

He threw a jacket on and went down the stairs, pausing before he opened the door. He didn’t think the first time he’d see her in this state of undress would be out in front of their building. 

_If that was even gonna happen._

He honestly had no idea how we was supposed to interact with the two of them right now, so he stepped outside and smiled at the two of them. 

“Hey ladies. Looking good. I heard you’re in need of a photographer?”

“Hey TDH,” Liz offered.

“LIZ!” 

He could look that up later. Right now he was quite confused as to what they were supposed to be dressed as now that he could see them up close. 

Millie looked like a bride, maybe, if the bodice of her dress was missing. He took a closer look at her belt. _Boy Toy. Ha._ _The games I’d play with you..._

Liz was wearing something that looked like what would have been under the dresses of the girls he used to romance before he was shipped off. The clips normally holding up stockings hung loose though, and there was a belt around the waist. She had the same long legs Millie had, but was missing muscles. 

“Hi Buck. Thanks for helping us out. We wanna send a pic to Jake.” 

_That lucky bastard._

“Ok, you girls ready? I’ll message these to you. 1..2..3...cheese!”

He snapped a few as they changed poses.

“Thank you!" Millie winked at him and he almost shuddered. Millie was wondering what compelled her to wink. 

“Anytime. I’d say you two be good, though I think you’re well past that, so how about...have fun and don't burn the city down?”

They both laughed. Bucky texted the photos to Millie and she gave him a thumbs up. 

“You got it. We’d invite you to come with us, but this is sister time,” Liz said. 

“Can’t interrupt that, it's too important." 

“Sure can’t. Thanks for helping us out.” Millie and Liz exchanged a look, then turned to walk arm in arm to a bar in the neighborhood that was hosting an 80s themed Halloween party. They were quiet until they were out of earshot.

“Girl. Where did he come from?” Liz asked as they walked down Oak. 

“I don’t know. Really. I just know he works for Stark Industries and is from Brooklyn.” 

“Honey if I wasn’t married…”

“Oh shush. I’ve been single for a month, and I really think that sleeping with my neighbor is a terrible idea. Plus I don’t think he’d...think of me that way.”

“He was looking at you like a wolf looks at a rabbit, Mils.”

Millie shrugged. She liked what she had with Bucky. He was handsome, he was kind, and he was funny when he wanted to be. Millie didn’t have a ton of friends, and she really appreciated having one living in her building. 

“Look, tonight is sister time. Let’s go dance, drink too much, and make sure we're carrying our shoes at the end of the night, sound good?”

—-

He looked at the photos he snapped in confusion, but was secretly happy that he'd had some photographic evidence of her existence. 

After messaging the photos to Millie, Bucky sent one to Sam followed by a question mark. 

_wow sarge. what’s the question?_

_Who are they supposed to be?_

_I’ll explain when I get there._

Sam and Bucky tried, occasionally, to socialize with each other. It was more for Bucky’s benefit than Sam’s, Sam being convinced that if it weren't for him, Bucky would never do anything but walk around Brooklyn and lust after the teacher, so tonight he'd invited himself with a pizza and some beer and they planned to watch one of the many movies Bucky had missed over the course of his time as a frozen asset for Hydra. 

Movies and going to movies was one of the first things Bucky remembered after his brain had been untangled in Wakanda. He loved going to the movies, especially if there was a pretty girl sitting next to him. The opportunity to simply sit in quiet and become entranced by a story, even a bad one, was precious to him. But, there was just...so much that had happened that he was often overwhelmed with where to even start.

He knew the majority of what had happened geopolitically, because it was his job to know, but the rest of it was a mystery to him still. 

Sam gave him the corniest smile when Bucky opened the door.

“So that’s the teacher?”

“Yep.”

“The other one is…”

“Her sister.”

“Look out Brooklyn. She single?”

“Shut up. And no. They needed me to take the photo so they could send it to her husband.”

“Are you gonna invite me in or not?”

Sam set the pizza down on the counter while Bucky pulled down some plates. They sat on the sofa and Sam fired up the TV. 

“Now before we watch what we planned, I’m going to explain Madonna to you.”

Sam loved it when he got to explain these pop culture things to Bucky, just as he had with Rogers. His brow furrowed, as Bucky had grown up a Catholic, so Madonna meant something else to him. Nothing could have prepared a man born in 1917 for what he was about to see. 

Sam searched for “Madonna vma 1984,” and pulled up the video and pressed play. A woman wearing the same outfit as Millie was standing on top of a giant cake. He watched with curiosity as she began to sing, and she pulled away the veil that had been covering her face and threw it on the stage, taking her wild hair out of a coif as well. 

“Is she saying—“

“Yep.”

He also couldn’t help but think the getup looked better on Millie. 

“And this happened...live?” Bucky asked as Madonna dry humped her way across the stage. 

“It did. People weren’t sure how to react.”

“Huh.”

“So my guess is those two sisters are having the time of their lives right now.”

“I’m sure they are. When did Halloween become...this?” Bucky gestured with hand. 

“Don’t know! Sure seems more fun than when I was a kid.”

“Well she deserves to have a little fun. Everything she’s told me about the last guy makes me think she could stand to let her hair down a bit.”

“You ask her out yet?”

“No, I just...Wanna make sure I know what I’m doing.”

“Sure.”

“Her sister refers to me as “TDH.” Any idea on what that could be?”

“Tall, dark, and handsome.”

“Huh.” 

Sam erupted in laughter at the sight of the Winter Soldier blushing. 

“Anyway, you should listen to some music other than Glenn Miller. Let’s get this movie started.”

—-

Millie and Liz were indeed having the time of their lives. They danced, drank, danced, drank and had totally committed to getting into trouble, flirting with some 22 year olds and heading them off as they got ready to leave. 

Millie’s feet were killing her by the time the wee hours of the morning rolled around and they set forth for home, relying on each other to stand up straight. Millie’s dress had a big tear in it, and the big bow on the back had come undone and was dragging on the ground behind her gathering dirt and other street debris. When they reached the corner of Oak and Franklin, Liz turned left to head back to her apartment. 

“This is where I leave you," she bowed. 

“Call me tomorrow?”

Liz managed a thumbs up. Millie paused and figured it was only another block until she was home and in bed, so she took her shoes off even though the temperature had dropped quite a bit since she left. 

_Get home, have water, shower, sleep._

Bucky was walking back from seeing Sam to his car to when he saw Millie going a little sideways on her way back to the building. She had one shoe in each hand, pieces of her dress hanging off her and her makeup was a little faded, but she still looked irresistible. Despite Sam telling him to avoid the chivalry, he couldn’t help but get her attention, jogging towards her after she acknowledged him. He held his arm out for her, and felt her icy hand wrap around him after putting both her shoes in her opposite hand. 

“We gotta stop meeting like this, doll.”

“Meeting like how, B. Barnes?” 

“You half in the bag. Who let you walk home alone like this?” 

“Like how?” 

“Like drunk.”

“Only had to go a block or so. Wasn’t too worried.” she slurred a bit. 

He made an exasperated noise. _You’re too trusting._

“Well, let’s get ya inside, huh? You’re colder than an ice cube.”

“Doesn’t feel that way.”

“Trust me. You are.”

_And I’d love to be the one to warm ya up._

They reached their building and Bucky opened the gate. 

“Ok, ma’am, up the stairs.”

She leaned hard into him. 

“Thanks, Bucky.”

“You got your keys?”

She pulled them out of her tiny purse, and he took them. _Alright honey, let’s get you inside_. He opened the door to her apartment and helped her over the threshold. He flipped on a light. It was cute, though he didn't know what else it would be. Quaint, with lots of plants and soft textures. Longing to look around and see her space more clearly like he was preparing for a mission, he didn't dare step further beyond the entryway. It felt intrusive to be here, in her home this late, especially given how intoxicated she was. 

“I think you got it from here,” he said in almost a whisper. She gave a short laugh, going to the kitchen to fill up a glass with water. She turned back to him and asked him if he wanted one. He shook his head while she took the pearly comb out of her hair and massaged the spot where her hair had been taught all night. She closed her eyes. 

“Hey Bucky?”

“Mmm?”

“Thank you. You’re wonderful.”

_Ah, you’re just sayin’ that, but part of me hopes you mean it._

“Nah, I’m just in the right place at the right time sometimes. Lock the deadbolt behind me and get some sleep, sweetheart.”

Millie’s heart always skipped a beat when he gave her one of his little pet names, which wasn’t often, but each time it felt like a little gift. 

"I will." 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is...truly ridiculous and I'm sorry.

Bucky usually, if he wasn't overnight on assignment, cooked oatmeal for himself in the morning. On the stove. The hard way. It gave him time to think before he had to check emails, which he had determined over the past year were the bane of his existence. It was comforting to stand there and stir while he sipped his coffee, contemplating his next mission or thinking of what he’d like to do that day if he was in between. 

He didn’t often seek out comfort on purpose, especially given how much time he’d spent in incredible discomfort, but he allowed himself a few, small indulgences. A leisurely breakfast. A nice soft bed. To dawdle when he thought Millie might be around so he could see her. 

But this morning, November 1, the morning after Halloween, after stepping into _her_ home for the first time, he didn’t cook oatmeal just for one. Continuing his slide from The Winter Soldier to Bucky Barnes, Romantic Sap, he was making breakfast for Millie. He didn’t know how long she intended to sleep, but given the state of her the previous evening, he figured it would be a while. He added some cinnamon and sliced apples to the top, then packed it in a vacuum seal container he happened to have from his military days. He wrote a quick note and packed it up, quietly stepping down the stairs to drop it off on top of the mailbox. 

He knocked softly and went back up the stairs to get to eat his own breakfast. 

—

Millie felt better than she thought she would when she woke up. It was earlier than she thought, and she blamed it on the fact that she just couldn’t sleep past 7 anymore. _You're_ _getting_ _old, Mildred._

As she was washing her face and putting on something other than the oversized t-shirt she had slept in, she swore she heard a soft knock at the door. she jumped into some jeans.  _ No one through the peephole,  _ she opened the door slightly. On the mailbox was a thermos with an envelope balanced on top of it. Curious, she stepped into the hallway, and saw M. Miller scrawled in absolutely gorgeous, perfect penmanship. She gave a short laugh. She took it inside and opened the note. 

_ Nov 1 _

_ Good Morning Ms. Miller— _

_ Please find a healthy, hot breakfast underneath this note. Thought you might be hungry when you woke up. Hope your head doesn’t hurt too bad.  _

_ \- B  _

Millie had never had a friend, much less a man who was interested in her, that was thoughtful. Even when she was with Erick, it was her and Liz against the world the whole time, and she’d been pretty on her own before then too.  _ Ok maybe he wants to be more than a friend _ , she finally admitted. 

In fact, the more she thought about Erick, and what he said before he left, that he never loved her, the more she realized that she'd probably actually had heard the truth from him.  _ One of the few times _ , she thought darkly. 

The more Millie unraveled the past decade, the more she found a deluge of lies and indifference and the sadder she was that she’d spent so long giving everything to a person who took advantage of it, all while seeing her as something to be escaped. Rationally, she knew that wasn’t true, but the little broken part of her that Erick’s indifference poked at, that her parent’s apathy soaked into told her it was. 

And she didn’t know if she could handle it again. Giving that much of herself to someone, for them to possibly throw it away. She knew that was the whole thing, to do it and hope for the best. In the darkest, most secret parts of her, she questioned if anyone had really ever loved her. Her parents, Erick.  _ Liz does,  _ her brain offered. She looked back down at the note. 

“Ok, it’s just breakfast,” she said out loud, as she unscrewed the lid. Warm cinnamon and apple tickled the inside of her nostrils. She dipped a spoon into the thermos.  _ My god that’s good...for oatmeal _ , she thought. She could taste butter, milk, a little maple syrup, cinnamon...and was that nutmeg? 

She ate almost ravenously, then had another huge glass of water, imagining her liver down on its knees praying for her to put some fluids back into her system. She felt good, all things considered.

Grabbing her phone, she made her way to the couch and wrapped her cozy cardigan around her. Curling her legs under her, she unlocked the screen and opened her messages.

She started to type a few words to Bucky, but none of them sounded right. 

She finally settled on

_ Bucky, you’re a saint. Let me make it up to you sometime.  _

She pressed send, almost holding her breath when she saw the three dots pop up on the screen to indicate he was typing. 

_ Nah. It’s no trouble.  _

Millie decided to take a chance. 

_ I was going to go get coffee and pick up some flowers. It’s not homemade breakfast (which was delicious), but did you maybe want to come with me? My treat. You can even get flowers if you want LOL _

Millie chewed her lip. Why did she think he’d be willing to drop everything on Sunday morning to run errands with her?  _ Who am I to think he’s got the time? _

_ Meet you outside in 20? _

She smiled down at her phone, then realized she had very little time to look a lot less like she’d been out all night drinking. 

_ Shit _ .

_ —- _

Bucky stood up and realized it had been a minute since a comb had met his hair. He splashed some water on his face and combed out a rather large knot near the crown of his head. He must have been tossing and turning quite a bit the night before. 

His dreams weren’t as bad as they could be or had been, but he had a rough night now and again. Especially lately. He’d been having memories come gasping to the surface when he least expected it, which he thought might kind of make sense given how much time he’d been spending walking around Brooklyn. He was remembering more about his family, who he left behind when he left the first time. 

Not only that, but he was getting to a place where he could admit to himself that some of his biggest hesitations in pursuing Millie is that he simply...didn’t know how he’d react. He hadn’t touched a woman since 1944 and he supposed with all the work he’d done to try and become somewhat like the prewar version of himself, he really had no real reason to doubt himself. He’d been quite a flirt and attentive lover in his heyday and he felt it come back when he helped her up the stairs or peeled off a term of endearment. 

But there was still...still that little bit. Still had a few weapons hidden around home, still always tried to find an exit route in every public space he went to, still didn’t know what being touched tenderly would do to him.  _ Plus, there’s the matter of your occupation, which will come up.  _

But right now, all he knew for sure was that she was going to be waiting outside, and that they were going to go buy flowers.  _ God if Rogers could see me now  _ he chuckled to himself. He picked up his favorite navy blue jacket and slipped on his boots. 

Millie was sitting on the stoop with the big woven basket with leather handles.  _ For the flowers, probably. _

She turned to look at him, and he swore her eyes lit up at his presence. Hope instead of fear. He hadn’t seen too much of that lately. 

It made the corner of his mouth twist a bit. 

“Should we go?”

He nodded. 

—

“Do you always keep flowers around?”

“I try to, I like them. Sadly the ones you gave me have given up the ghost.”

She’d saved the eucalyptus though. She wanted to keep it. 

“I’m glad ya liked ‘em.”

“Yeah, my favorite colors.”

Bucky swelled with pride. 

“Do you have a favorite flower?”

“Roses. Or Mums. I’m going to get mums today. Good for the fall.”

He nodded. 

“Do _you_ have a favorite flower?”

Bucky had never been asked that. He thought for a second. 

“Roses. I like the smell.”

“Especially wild ones. Have you ever been to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden? They have the most beautiful rose garden there. It’s...heavenly in the springtime.”

His mother had gone a few times over the course of his childhood, but he’d never accompanied her. Millie continued. 

“I take my students every spring. They have a garden with all of the plants mentioned in Shakespeare’s work. I get to pick the text we read of his thankfully, and I always pick the same one.”

“It’s been a long time since I had to read anything you teach, but try me. What do you pick?” 

“Midsummer Night’s Dream. Fits in nicely with the botanic garden trip. Plus it’s more fun than the tragedies.”

Bucky was going to have to go to the bookstore soon, pick up some books he wouldn’t have opened since 1935. He liked knowing what she and the students got up to, and he wanted to be able to talk to her about what she was talking about. 

“I think I might remember that one. There’s...half animals in that one?”

She laughed warmly.

“That’s the one.”

“You sound like a good teacher.”

“I just...hope they like and appreciate some of the work I love so much as much as I do.”

“Did you always want to teach?”

“No. I didn’t know what I wanted to do really at all until I got to college, “I just...wanted to get through it, ya know?” She finished her sentence sheepishly.

He knew a little something about that, and he nodded in agreement. 

“Sometimes that’s the best we can hope for.” 

They rounded the corner, arriving at the farmer’s market where Millie got her flowers each week. The stall was thankfully on the edge of the market, and she greeted the woman working as an old friend. Bucky waited for her while she perused, observing her inhale the fragrance of the blooms in front of her deeply. 

She chose an autumnal pallet for her weekly bouquet, and snuck a small bouquet of yellow roses that she was going to surprise Bucky with when they got back to their building.

“You get what you were looking for?” 

“Yep! Coffee time.” 

“Can I carry that for you?” 

“Nope! Carrying a basket of flowers home is my favorite part of the week! Sorry, Galahad!” 

_ Then maybe I can carry you.  _

\--- 

After taking their coffee to go, they went to sit in the park. It was unseasonably warm for November, and they found a nice sunny spot to enjoy the limited hours of daylight of mid autumn. 

When they finally made their way back to their building, Bucky opened the gate and ushered her up the stairs. 

“Before you go in, I got you something,” Millie teased. 

He cocked his head, as she reached into her basket and pulled out the roses she’d bought earlier. 

“Look, I know men don’t really think it’s manly or whatever to have flowers around, but you said you liked the smell,” she held out the bouquet, “I know you work a lot, and I think having flowers around helps with stress, though i have no scientific evidence to back it up, so take ‘em, and I hope you enjoy them.” 

Bucky was touched. He hadn’t had something as frivolous as flowers probably...ever? 

“Thank you. Though I kinda feel like I should be the one buying you flowers.” 

“You already did.” 

Her eyes twinkled in amusement. 

“Well, maybe there’s more where those came from.” 

“You seem to be pretty good at picking them.” 

He nodded dumbly. _They're just flowers._

_Yeah, but they're from her._

"Well, thanks for running errands with me. I have a ton of essays to grade, otherwise I'd invite you in," she smiled at him, and when she did, he realized that he always wanted someone to smile at him like that. All the time. 

He was going to have to figure out how to explain some shit. 


	6. Chapter 6

  
  


Bucky ended up pressing one of the flower petals in the copy of the  _ Crucible  _ he’d picked up earlier that fall. He’d dug a green Depression glass vase that he THOUGHT might have been his mother’s out of one of the boxes he hadn’t bothered to go through yet, and followed Millie’s instructions to add a drop of bleach to the water to keep them alive. They looked full and gorgeous as they began to bloom and open up, and Bucky thought of her every time he saw them on his kitchen counter. So  _ that’s why we give ‘em flowers.  _

The truth was he still felt that everything was temporary. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel safe, it was that he didn’t feel content. It had been a few months since he moved in, and yet the boxes of Barnes family relics his temporary assistant had managed to track down sat gathering dust. There was no art on the walls. No rugs. Nothing to make it feel homey. 

He had a few days before he had to head out on his next mission with Sam. So with a little old fashioned gumption, he pulled the boxes out and began to go through them. There were photos. So many photos. Old 78 Records, documents, including his high school diploma. He shook his head.  _ Here I am, scattered in a box of a different kind.  _

He started first with photos. The ones he found the most interesting were those in the box from after he left. The wedding photos. Nieces and nephews he never met. The way his parents deteriorated before his eyes. He sighed.

_ How do you go through this kind of stuff when you want to keep it all?  _

He found a journal that had been his one of his sister’s, which...he contemplated reading but decided that might be the surest way to invite a haunting into his life. He decided he was going to keep it though. He ran his hand over the cover. Even if he never read it, he thought it was safer with him. 

Next up, he recognized his own handwriting inside a small address book. The spine cracked in half the moment he opened it. Names, phone numbers. He looked at some of the entries, the ghosts of forgotten lovers past swirling around him.  _ Helen Peters _ .  _ Florence Columbo. Shirley McCrystal.  _ He remembered parts of them: Doe eyes, silk stockings, hair that didn’t move when he ran his hand through it.  _ I thought I was hot shit, huh?  _

There were a few pieces of jewelry, some of which he recognized as his mother’s, some he didn’t. A very weathered pink velvet box contained his parents’ wedding rings: a small dainty Edwardian piece that had been his mother’s and a thick gold band that had been his father’s. 

He still didn’t know if him being here, in present day time, was right. He missed his family terribly. At least during the war he’d been able to hold onto the idea that he’d see them again, but now? 

He continued to pick out some of the photos he’d decided to. He opted to keep the jewelry, and he didn’t know if the documents would be necessary, but they felt important.  _ So I’m keeping everything. _

Bucky now understood why he plucked the single petal off the roses Millie gave him. Whatever happened, whoever came into his life, he wanted to remember, partially due to his fear of his mind not being his own again someday, and partially because he missed so much of it all. 

_ God between the vases and the photos, it’s gonna look like Ma’s house in here. _

—

Millie was perched on the arm of Liz’s couch, catching her breath after wrestling an antique mirror off the wall. She’d volunteered to help her sister patch up the holes in the walls and take care of the more breakable items Liz didn’t trust the movers to handle. But Millie was really there to see her sister one last time before moving day. One last time for the way it had been. 

“Well, I think that’s the last of it,”

Millie turned to look at her sister, giving her a wry smile.

“I can’t believe this is really happening.”

“I know.”

“It’s just...been the two of us for so long.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“Visit on weekends?”

“Yeah. It just won’t be the same.”

“I know, Mil. But hey, now you have an excuse to get out of the city every once in a while. We can plan that sister trip we've been talking about all these years.”

Millie nodded. That would be nice. 

“Plus, it’s not like you’re totally alone.”

Millie lightly slugged her sister.

“You’re right, but if you keep teasing me about him I’m never gonna tell you anything again.”

“I mean, you do realize that this kind of thing never happens to people.”

“Yeah, I know. Part of me wonders if he’s a criminal of some kind or something,” she laughed.

“He’s a pretty quiet criminal then.”

“Yeah I don’t think that’s it. I think he’s just reserved.”

Liz shrugged.

“Are you going to ask him out?”

“Nah, I think me giving him flowers might have thrown him off a bit. Plus I honestly...like...don’t know that I want...him to be a rebound. Does that make sense?”

“Go on.”

“I don’t know. It’s been 10 years since I attempted to start anything up. Like...maybe I need to like...get the rebound out of the way?”

Liz looked at her quizzically, “you’re saying you need to get over Erick, who you never bring up and kicked out of your home, by getting under someone else, but it shouldn’t be him because you think you’re catching feelings?”

“Yeah...I...yeah. By the way, my students say ‘catch feelings…’” 

Liz ignored her.

“Hm. I mean. I think it could get messy if you do it that way. Do you think he’s seeing anyone else? Do YOU want to see someone else?”

“I don’t know when he could be. He works late a lot of nights, and I can always tell when that is because I hear the door, then he texts me to see how my day was. So unless he’s using me as his like...emotional fluffier, I don’t think that’s happening. And no.”

Liz nodded. 

“Well, I think...and understand why...you’re scared. I think you should take your time, but maybe realize that he won’t be around forever. Don’t take him for granted. It’s a pretty low pressure situation at the moment. Are you comfortable at the pace you’re going?”

_ No _ . 

“Yeah, I mean...what’s not to like? A handsome guy doting on you? Who’s genuine and caring?”

“Then I think you just...wait and see.”

“Alright, well. Fine. Let’s get this mirror into your car?”

——

Bucky was due back at the Avengers compound a few days later, the same time all of Millie’s midterm essays had been handed in. She faced a sizeable pile of 8 pages a piece on The Scarlet Letter, a text she didn’t particularly love, and Bucky faced a trip back to Russia, which he definitely didn’t love. 

The night he needed to leave, Bucky knocked softly on her door. He didn’t know why he felt compelled to tell her he was leaving, but he felt like he should. She opened it a crack. 

“Hey, teach.”

“Hey.”

“Just wanted you to know I was going to be gone for a few days.”

Millie opened the door wide enough for him to come in but he didn’t. She took her hand off the handle and wrapped her cardigan sweater tightly around her chest. 

“Oh! Ok. Thanks for telling me,” she smiled. 

“Midterms?” 

Bucky nodded towards her little desk next to the door, the reading light illuminated and a mug of coffee lazily letting up steam into the atmosphere. He gave her a knowing look. 

“It’s decaf, I promise. And yeah,  _ The Scarlet Letter. _ ”

Bucky had given her some sass about her after dark coffee drinking habits. _ You need your sleep!  _ He’d argued with her.  _ It’s ok, I do it all the time.  _

“Alright, I’ll let you off this time. Go easy on ‘em.”

He gave her a toothy smile as a parting gift. And Millie could not help the shudder that crept down her back.  _ B. Barnes, do you know you have a fat bottom lip I just wanna bite?  _

“I never do. I hope you have a good trip.”

“Thanks. I’ll see ya in a few days.”

He and Sam were called up to do some investigation in Siberia, outside Yakutsk, and Bucky, though he’d never admit it, felt apprehensive to return to whence he came. He was given the brief, which he already knew and had received by email (the fucking emails), then told to be ready to leave by sunrise. 

Bucky parked himself in the control room near the quinjet and waited. A few moments later, Sam joined him. 

“Sam.”

“You ready?”

_ Not really.  _

“Yep. Let’s leave so we can get back.”

——

The plan was for them to be dropped into the location, find what they needed to find, get to the checkpoint, and then get out. Clean, simple. Fast. The shit they were good at. 

But of course that did not happen. There were complications from the beginning, starting with the coordinates of the suspected Hydra facility being more than a little off. They ended up having to hike over 5 miles near  Yakutsk as it turned to winter. Bucky was used to the cold, though he loathed it, as it scratched at the wall he’d worked so hard to keep  _ that guy _ out of his head. The temperature on the ground in Siberia that day was -23, and despite enhancement, Bucky thought this was finally it. He was going to freeze to death. 

They’d be called upon to find a data cache allegedly stored at an allegedly dormant facility, both of which felt incredibly dubious to Bucky, but he was willing to go along.  _ The sooner I do this, the sooner I can leave.  _

When they finally reached their destination, they discovered the door left open, snow billowing into the dark abyss of the entryway, which did not bode well for the quality or integrity of the items inside. Or who else might be there. 

Longing to be indoors, but denied due to either incompetency on the part of a Hydra agent or certain danger within, Sam and Bucky took a moment to survey the perimeter, which took longer because their comms equipment froze into uselessness, so dividing and conquering wasn’t an option. 

“We need to make this the checkpoint. We’re not going to make it back without one of us freezing. Or the asset.” 

“You’re right, Barnes. I’m not sure how to do that with comms out though. Your thoughts on going inside?” 

Bucky nodded. 

They pressed forward, pushing the door open the rest of the way and sweeping the space for anyone. 

Thankfully, it was empty. Thankfully. But until either of them could warm up enough to extract what they were there for, or let someone know they’d changed their coordinates, they’d have to wait. 

It was at least an hour before either Sam or Bucky could even properly bend their fingers. Both knowing what role they were to play, Bucky set about sharing their new coordinates with their ticket out of Siberia while Sam obtained the information they needed. 

“Ready when literally anyone can come get us,” Sam said. 

“Yeah, about that…” Bucky trailed off. 

“No.” 

“Yeah, I think it’s gonna be a while. There’s a blizzard in the forecast, and given this is a slightly clandestine mission we’re on at the moment, the folks at home aren’t willing to risk flying in such conditions. Settle in.” 

Sighing, Sam pulled an aluminum stool closer to the center of the room and sat. Bucky followed suit. All they could do now was wait. 

\---

He’d said a few days. They had no commitment to one another, so Millie wasn’t quite sure why she was so worried. She tried not to text him, because she didn’t want to seem overly eager, but she sent a few over the course of the first few days. 

_ Is he...ghosting me? When he lives in the same building as me?  _

She called Liz. 

“You said he works late a lot. Is it possible he’s just...held up?”    
  
“For seven days?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe? Look, it’s Friday. Why don’t you hop on the train and Jake and I will come get you. You can help me choose some throw pillows. You can spend the night?” 

Millie sat quiet for a second on the couch, looking out the window like a dog missing their companion. She was just going to feel miserable if she stayed home alone.

“Alright fine.”

These things did happen. Sometimes. She guessed. 

Erick had been like a barnacle since day one, until he wasn’t, so she wasn’t quite sure how to handle this particular situation. Every interaction she’d had with Bucky went through her head as she put some pajamas and her toothbrush into a backpack. There was nothing, from her perspective, to indicate he was anything less that kind and caring. 

_ God, this is so not about you.  _

She knew that, in the rational part of her brain. But the longing and pining part of her brain didn’t agree with that at all as she locked up her apartment for the weekend. 

\---

After finding an ancient and probably dangerous space heater, Sam and Bucky set up camp, 

The snow raged on outside, and they were forced to melt it for water, their field rations running low too, as they had not anticipated needing to be gone for so long. 

After four days, Sam and Bucky had a game to pass the time using discarded equipment found in the facility. It had started simple enough,  _ bet you can’t throw this piece of rubble into that wastebaske _ t and devolved from there. 

Bucky thought of her often, along with the obvious traumatic memories of having been trapped in a very similar facility for the majority of his time on earth. He had weird dreams, trying to stay warm under his parka. Dreams about her, dreams about the past. Sometimes it was hard to tell when he was asleep and when he was awake. 

_ Would she be done marking mid terms? What flowers did she pick this week? Was she worried, or worse, angry? I don’t mean anything to her, why would she worry?  _

After 7 days of waiting, the comms system finally chirped, and Sam bolted up from throwing his goggles up in the air and catching them while laying on his back on the floor. 

“It’s about time. ETA?”

“2 hours. I understand there’s a new checkpoint?”

“Yep hold on,”

He handed the the earpiece to Bucky. 

“This is Barnes.”

“New coordinates please.”

He read them off. He was going home, and while this wasn’t the stickiest scrape he’d been in, it certainly felt high stakes, because for the first time in nearly 70 years, he wanted to get back home. 

—

Liz and Jake cooked for Millie that night. Their house was still a disaster of boxes and garbage bags full of Liz’s extensive wardrobe, but they had set up the kitchen. 

“Alright, we got braised short ribs on polenta and Jake is attempting creme brûlée,” Liz explained as she opened the oven to check on her creation. 

“You’re gonna eat sugar and carbs?” Millie laughed. 

“I mean, isn’t that part of moving to the suburbs?” 

“I don’t think it has to be, but regardless, that sounds delicious. Thanks for doing that for me.”

“Aw, if tempting you with dinner is what it takes to see my sister now is what it’s gonna take, then I’ll cook a whole Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Ha. Yeah right.”

“Well, about that. We’re gonna host. It’s gonna be mostly Jake’s family. It would...it would mean a lot to me if you came. Annnnd if you would bake dessert so I have one less thing to do.”

Liz smiled mischievously.

“Oh all right. I’ll even rent a car.”

—

Bucky was dead tired by the time he got back home. After the flight, the debrief, the mandatory medical checkup, and a very long hot shower he was finally able to head back home. He was hoping Millie was home, but her apartment was dark. 

_ Of course _ . He was a little sad that she wasn’t around, but he couldn’t expect her to always be there.  _ She doesn’t belong to you.  _

He hung his jacket up and went straight into his bedroom, finally able to check his phone for the first time since he left. He fluffed up the pillows on his bed so he could sit up and try to catch up with everything. 

Millie enjoyed Instagram, and Bucky downloaded it out of curiosity. He didn’t TOTALLY get the appeal, but Millie posted a lot, and it was nice to learn more about her inner life. 

He unlocked his phone to see he had 5 messages from Millie.  _ I guess I did tell her “a few” days.  _

_ Hey Bucky! I hope you’re having a good day! :-)  _

The next day.

_ Look at this car that drove away with the gas pump still in it! OMG _

Then nothing until this morning. 

_ Hey, I hope everything is ok. I hope I didn’t do anything to upset you. Sorry for sending multiple texts.  _

Fuck. 

He wasn’t sure what to say. 

_ Hi, I’m sorry. I got stuck in Russia. Bad weather. I’m back now. I hope you’re having a good weekend.  _

None of it was a lie. He saw her begin to type a reply then she stopped. 

—

“Ughhhhhhhhh,” Millie exclaimed after seeing Bucky’s text. She took a big sip of wine. She and Liz were browsing fabrics for drapes in the living room, having just finished the creme brûlée Jake had made for them. 

“Did he text you back, Mil?”

“Yeah. He did.”

“Well, that’s good right?”

“I guess! I don’t really know. He said he was held up in Russia?”

“You said he works for Stark, right? That doesn’t seem  _ that _ far fetched.”

“Yeah you’re right. You’re right, I just don’t know what I’m doing and I feel like I’m starting to feel like...it’s too deep, right? Right?”

Liz pursed her lips into a thin line. 

“I don’t...think it has to be that serious. You’re just texting.”

She nodded.  _ But maybe I want it to be serious.  _

“Yeah. It’s fine. I just...I missed him. Which is silly.”

“Nah. It’s not. Tell him.”

She typed out a reply. 

_ Hey! I’m glad you made it back. I’m at my sister’s house in Jersey. I missed you. _

  
She missed me, he thought. _ If texts were meant to be taken face value, then that’s good enough for me. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few content warnings for this one: 
> 
> Sexual harassment.

Millie was sitting in the teachers lounge after school a few days later. She was on a roll with grading, so figured she should buckle down and finish. Just two left. Then grocery store, then home. She was gonna make what the recipe called a “nourishing grain bowl” and catch up on  _ The Witcher _ . 

She was trying to rely less on Bucky to entertain her during the day. She was a tad miffed about his long silence, and she realized she was beginning to get attached to someone whom Liz was convinced was into her, but she wasn’t so sure. So, she had to cool it down a bit. For her own good. She tapped her purple pen to her temple, enjoying a particularly poignant passage from one of her students when she was rudely interrupted. 

“Hey Miller!”

Millie looked up and took her AirPods out of her ears to see it was the PE teacher she had always barely tolerated. 

“Oh hey, Mike.”

“I heard you and what’s his name finally broke up.”

_ Finally? _

“Yep, we did.” She said mildly. 

Mike Fiorello had been bugging her for a date since she began working at the school 8 years ago. It wasn’t that he was unattractive, his personality was simply awful. He was crass, rude to students, and full of himself. Millie tried to avoid him as much as possible, and given how many teachers were at the school, it wasn't really a problem often. But every once in a while, he managed to wander into her space. 

Mike sat next to her. 

“What can I do for your Mr. Fiorello?” She put her pen down and cradled her head in her hands, doing her best to give him a pointed look. 

“You, me, dinner, maybe a little something afterward?”

Millie snorted. 

“Now why on earth would I do that?” 

“Because I’m not gonna leave you alone until ya do!”

“Mike. Come on. We work together. It’s not appropriate AND i’m not interested.”

She picked up her pen and tried to go back to grading. Mike slid his hand into her sight line and pulled her pen out of her hand. 

“I wasn’t kidding.”

Millie sighed.  _ Why are men like this?  _

“Fine.”

_  
_ _ One date can’t hurt. We let him down easy at the end.  _

“Great. I’ll pick you up at 7 on Saturday.”

Millie rolled her eyes. 

“Kay, great. Now I have work to do. Go.”

  
  


—

Millie had been quiet that week. She was still cordial, she still texted, said hello when he ran into her in the hallway and asked him how work was going. But Bucky felt like things were different since he came back from Russia. and it worried him. 

_ Maybe it was too much.  _ He didn’t have any idea how to interact with women. The texting, he didn’t know. He thought he was doing ok, trying to play it cool, trying to keep it casual the way that Sam told him to. But maybe she wanted something different. Or nothing.

Bucky couldn’t really get drunk due to his enhancements, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t go through the action of drinking to forget. 

Every time Sam came over he brought a bottle of booze with him, so he pulled one off the top of the fridge and poured a 3 finger drink. Taking a long sip and running his vibranium hand through his hair, he leaned over on the counter, balanced on his elbows. 

He heard Millie’s buzzer ring, one of the drawbacks to living in a hundred year old building, and out of curiosity he looked down to the door from his window and saw a guy in a too shiny shirt with too pointy shoes. He was adjusting his shirt collar to sit just so. 

Bucky made a face.  _ Who is this clown? _

He was slightly shocked when Millie came out to meet the man on stoop, but did note they were dressed very differently. She wore that sweater she’d been wearing the night he went to see her at the theater, jeans, and some clogs. He cocked his head to the side. 

He felt a strange possessive feeling overtake him, similar to what he’d felt when he’d pull Steve out of a fight. 

The guy offered his hand to Millie and he saw her shake her head, walk past him, hiking her handbag up over her shoulder and jamming her hands into her pockets as they took off down the street. 

_ Well, that’s a good sign. _

\--

_ I cannot believe I did this,  _ she thought as she stepped out of her apartment. She purposely put on an unappealing outfit, hoping that it wouldn’t give Fiorello the wrong idea, though she didn't know what would stop him. _ What a fucking dumb idea.  _

She had told Liz, naturally, while wandering through the grocery store later the day it happened that she had a date with Mike Fiorello and that she was unhappy about it. 

“I’m too fucking old for this kind of shit.” 

“You’re not old, Millie. And...maybe...Maybe it’ll help you get the jitters you seem to have for TDH out. Where’s he taking you?” 

“I don’t know, some red sauce italian place. He’s coming to pick me up.” 

“God, what I’d pay to see that.” 

Liz knew Mike in passing. As a faithful older sister, she came to every one of Liz’s school events, and so did Mike Fiorello. The only way he missed Bucky waiting for her a few weeks ago was because he’d been in bed with the flu. 

“I don’t know. It’s one date. He tries anything though, you know what to do. Just get away from him.” 

“Yeah, I’m just worried about the fallout at work.” 

“Well, listen, anything goes wrong you call me.” 

So that Saturday, there he was, on her doorstep, wearing a cheesy shiny purple shirt and awful pointy shoes. She gave him a chin lift with her lips pursed. 

“Hey Miller. You ready for me to rock your world?” 

“Hi Mike.” 

He reached for her hand and she walked right past him, opening the gate and trying with all her might and her body language to say  _ do not touch me _ .

_ Let’s get this over with. _

\-- 

Bucky didn’t have too much to worry about he thought,  _ but if I wasn't worried, how come I’m still drinking when I know it won’t do anything?  _

He realized that no matter what, he was going to have to wait up for her, just to make sure she got home safe. She’d come home. Tomorrow was Sunday. Flower day. She wouldn’t miss that. 

So he got comfortable, taking one of the books off the huge stack he’d recently purchased to try and catch up on the last 80 years of literature. He kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and set his tumbler of whiskey next to him on the end table, listening somewhat intently for the gate to open and for her to get back home safely. 

He ended up dozing off for a little while, his copy of  _ Cannery Row  _ open facedown on his chest. Waking with a start, he checked his phone. 11 pm. He went to the window to check and see if she was on her way back or already home, as he could usually see the light of her living room’s picture window reflected out onto the sidewalk. 

And sure enough, like a spirit had moved him, she was coming down Oak, that fucking cheeseball right behind her trying to keep up.  _ God she looks wondrous when she walks,  _ loving the way she led with her thighs, imagining her ass bouncing behind her. He didn’t let himself revel in thought too long, though, because just before she could open the gate, he grabbed her wrist and spun her around, and attempted a rather intimate kiss. She turned her head and his lips collided with her cheekbone instead. 

The hair on the back of his neck stood in prickles, and he felt both disgusted and angry. He turned to make his way to the door when he heard a satisfying smack, like an open hand going over a face.  _ Atta girl,  _ as he turned back to the window. Millie was shaking her hand.  _ Aw baby, that probably hurt, but he deserved it.  _ She began to yell at him, and pointed down the street. He lunged toward her like he was going to try something, and Mille stepped forward and stomped on his instep. 

As he was screaming in pain, she told him off, and he hobbled down the street. Bucky tore himself away from the window to go see if she was alright when he heard her loud wooden soled shoes coming up the stairs. His stomach dropped. She was coming to him. 

\---

The date was exactly as Millie expected it to be. She ordered a salad, water, and asked the bartender at the bar to give her a club soda with a lime in it so it looked like she’d ordered a drink. 

She didn’t trust Mike at all, especially with the looks he’d been throwing to her all night. Not only was he laying it on thickly, he also failed to notice they had absolutely nothing in common. Millie didn’t particularly care about fantasy hockey, or vaping, or any of the other stupid interests he had. She got the sense he didn’t read much, didn’t like much, and certainly didn’t listen much. 

Her phone lit up while he’d gone to the restroom, or “to whiz” as he had put it. It was from Bucky. She smiled down at the screen.  _ God, if I make it out of this date alive, I’m gonna go talk to him about….whatever it is we might...have. _

“Who are you smiling at, Miller?”    
  


“Oh, just...a meme on Instagram.” 

“Ah, so I’m boring you.” 

She scoffed, “You can’t be thinking this is going well, Mike.” 

“I don’t. But I also don’t think you’re trying.” 

“I’m not. Because I’m not interested in you.”

“You’ll learn to love me.” 

“Mmm, will I?” 

“You will. I’ll wear ya down.” 

Mille wrinkled her nose and sniffed. 

“I think I’m ready to go. I have an early yoga class tomorrow.” 

“Fine,” Mike threw two twenties onto the bar, “I’m gonna piss again before I walk you home.” 

She did the math in her head on how many drinks he got versus her, and realized he left the bartender a 5% tip. Millie rolled her eyes and opened her purse and threw a $10 onto the bar. She mouthed “sorry” to the bartender as Mike made his way back to their seats. 

“Well princess, let’s go.” He snapped his fingers at her.  _ God, you’re so fucking unlikable.  _

She put her jacket on and tried the same hands in pockets routine she’d used before, even more uncomfortable now that Mike had had a few and refused to keep his distance. 

By the time they’d turned down Oak St, Millie was walking at a steady clip, and Mike wasn’t able to keep up with her. 

“Hey, slow down.” 

‘Well, this is me. Thanks for dinner,” she said and tried to open the gate. Mike grabbed her wrist and spun her around. His eyes filled with rage, he tried to slam his lips into Millie’s, which made her stomach turn in an awful, uncomfortable way, and she turned her head in time for him to hit her cheek instead. The spot that came in contact with her felt like a greasy stain eating through her skin. 

“Not so fast, Miller...” he pulled her in again. 

“Mike, I’m not kidding. I am not interested,” he leaned in and tried to plant one on her again, his breath awful from the amount of calamari he’d eaten that night, and millie just...couldn’t take it. She raised her hand, open palmed, and slapped him hard across the face. 

“I said no, you asshole!” she shouted. 

Mike reeled for a second, and millie realized that the cold was going to make recovering from the slap a lot more painful that she’d anticipated. She shook her hand to try and dissolve the pins and needles feeling taking over. 

“Now, Fiorello, you’re gonna turn around, you’re gonna walk down Oak, you’re going to forget where I live, and you’re never gonna tell anyone about this, or I’ll tell everyone.” 

“I don’t think so, Millie. I’ve waited long enough,” and he lunged at her. Thinking quickly, she stomped on the top of his foot with the wooden heel of her clog. He yelped in pain. 

“Go. Now. Or I call the police.” 

“Fuck you, cunt!” 

“Not on your life. Go.” 

  
Mille could feel the adrenaline wearing off, and she could feel a lump of tears rising in her throat. 

“Fine. Don’t get your fucking panties in a twist.” 

_ Ugh you are...truly the worst man I’ve come into contact with since my own father.  _

She waited a moment, until she was sure he was on his way, and then she shakily went up the front steps, opened the door, and found herself walking right past her door up the stairs to Bucky’s apartment. 

_ Please be home, please be home, please be home.  _

She paused for a second before knocking, then gave him the same quiet knock he always gave her. 

He opened the door, and Millie promptly fell apart. 


	8. Chapter 8

When he opened the door, Millie looked like she was trying to keep herself together, her lips pressed together to keep from crying. Her eyes seems to plead with him, and she was occasionally shaking her right hand. He didn’t know what to say initially, so he simply nodded and stepped aside. 

She dropped her handbag on the floor near Bucky’s coat rack and put her hands up to her eyes to wipe away tears that managed to spill over her careful facade and turned to look at him. Shame. Bucky detected shame.  _ No no no, sweetheart, this isn’t your fault.  _

Wordlessly, he tentatively reached for her, embracing her carefully. He felt every point of nervous tension dissipate when he pulled her close.  _ I've got you, you’re ok.  _

She pulled away first. 

“Can I take your coat?” He asked quietly. 

“God, I’m so sorry. For intruding like this. I should be going.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No, it’s getting late, you’re probably getting ready for bed.” She bent over to get her bag.

“Millie, I want you to stay. If you want to,” he paused, “I saw everything.”

Her heart catapulted into her throat, and she moved to take her coat off and handed it to him. Bucky breathed in the scent of her perfume as he hung it on one of the hooks next to the door, fighting the urge to be more deliberate about it. 

He put his hand softly on her lower back to guide her to the couch. Millie looked around, realizing she’d never been in his space before. 

Most of it was blue. Navy blue sofa, blue Persian rug, walnut furniture, light blue window treatments. Masculine, but cozy. 

“You have nice taste,” she offered, 

“Heh, thanks. You can thank the assistant Stark gave me for the decor. You want the 3 penny tour? Probably looks like your place though.”

“Sure. Take it away.”

“You want something to drink?”

“Water?” 

He nodded, coming back with a glass and handing it to her, noticing her hands were freezing still when he brushed against them. 

“Now where were we.”

“The tour.”

“Right this way, ma’am.”

Peeling off a laugh, she stepped down the hall, water in hand, and Bucky sighed at the sight. Her in his home. It felt surreal. He continued.

“So, if you look to your left, you will find the space the assistant called the office, but I use it mainly to store all the junk I haven’t decided what to do with yet. there’s some bookshelves in here, too.”

He flipped on the light. The room looked like a time capsule. Old 78s leaning against the closet door. Black and white photos on the wall, a tanker desk with a computer that still had the protective film on it. 

“Very nice. You seem to like antiques?”

_ Oh honey, I am one. _

“Family stuff.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Alright, next, on your right, you’ll see the bathroom, containing a claw foot bathtub that I have never used, the shower stall and towels. Pretty exciting stuff.”

“You have a bathtub?! What the hell!”

“I take it you...don’t?”

“Nope. Hardly seems fair.”

_ Maybe you can use it sometime.  _

“Maybe we can trade apartments”

“Nah, I’m just giving you a hard time.”

“Alright, and here’s the bedroom,” turning on another lamp, blanketing the room in soft warm light. This room was painted light blue with a navy blue accent wall, which the bed was pushed up against. The bed had clean white bedding and was flanked with two walnut nightstands. She noticed he’d dried and kept the flowers from her in a heavy green vase set carefully on the dresser, a tall lamp next to it. Millie was touched. 

“Your room is so...neat.”

“Years in the military. Feels wrong not to make my bed.”

She nodded. 

“You...kept the flowers.”

“‘Course I did. I remembered my sisters used to hang them upside down to save them.”

“Mmm. Yeah.”

Millie took a hurried sip of water, not sure what else to say. 

“Well, that about does it for the tour. Underwhelming I know. I’m not..adventurous with color the way you seem to be.”

“It’s very lovely. Cozy.”

_ God, I’m talking about decor with her. Who the hell am I? _

“Thanks. I didn’t have much to do with that. You wanna sit? Take a load off?”

“Can I take my shoes off? They’re so loud.”

“Sure, whatever you want.”

She stepped out of her clogs and sat on the couch. She looked stiff though, as if she didn’t know what to do. 

“Go on, get comfortable.”

Millie pulled her legs up on the couch and sat pretzel style. 

“I’m...sorry for showing up here tonight. I just…”

“It’s alright, sweetheart.”

_Why is he the only guy who can say that and it doesn’t sound absolutely ridiculous?_ She wondered _._

“I...I appreciate it.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

Millie inhaled somewhat sharply. 

“Only if you want to. And I can get ya something stronger than water, if you want.”

She nodded. Bucky stood and poured her a tumbler of scotch he’d gotten into earlier. She tipped a sip into her mouth and breathed out loudly. 

“That’s some premium stuff,”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“So you want to know what happened. He works with me. He’s been kind of half attempting to flirt with me for the past 8 years. I’m not sure who told him Erick and I weren’t together anymore, but he knew. He asked me out, I said no, he persisted. I thought it would be easier to just go out with him and reject him then.”

“Mmm,” Bucky looked concerned. 

“So we go to dinner. The date is awful. He spends the entire time talking about himself, he’s rude to the server, and I really didn’t attempt to get to know him more than I already do.”

She took another sip of her drink. He could hear her voice tightening, sounding more unsure. She shifted on the couch, and Bucky got up from the arm chair he was in, and sat on the couch. 

“He...insisted we go get a drink after dinner. I opted not to partake, since I didn’t trust him at all. I...got a text from you when he was in the restroom, and he caught me smiling at my phone. I told him I was ready to go home, and he wanted to walk me home, which really felt more like a low speed chase now that I think about it,”

She scoffed. Tipping the last of the scotch into her mouth. 

“You want more?” 

She shook her head, eyes pinched shut. Exhaling like she’d just eaten a handful of chili peppers. 

“This whiskey is gonna put a little hair on my chest,” she cleared her throat, “So, we get back here, and he tried...he grabbed me, and tried to kiss me. I deflected, he kept going. I couldn’t have been more vocal about how uninterested I was, and he just kept going.”

Bucky sighed. That motherfucker. 

“So I...I mean you saw it.”

She let out a shaky sigh. 

“Yeah you got him pretty good. Hitting a guy in the instep is pretty damn painful. He earned it.”

“I was just…so scared. That’s never happened to me before. I just...how he figured that I..”

“He wasn’t thinking of you. At all.”

Millie shuddered. 

“I guess I’m just..happy he stopped.”

She turned to look at him, the fear and shame back behind her green eyes. He was lost in them for a moment, both in color and fantasy, excitement of her being there, on the couch, 2 feet away from him. This conversation was serious though.  _ Look alive, Barnes. _

“Millie I’m just sorry. I’m sorry you went through it and I’m sorry you felt unsafe—“

“It’s...it’s honestly fine. Serves me right for even going out with the guy.” She turned away and pretended to examine her whiskey glass.

“Hey, look at me.”

She wiped her eyes again with her free hand and turned.

“This is not your fault.”

She nodded furtively, the tears welling up again. And she scooted over closer to him, their thighs touching as they sunk to the middle of the couch. 

“Is this..ok?”

“Yeah it’s ok, get in here.” He held his arms open and Millie rested her head on his very solid chest. Jesus Christ, she thought, this has to be fake. 

Bucky continued. 

“Look, I want you to know that I’m not trying...to do anything you don’t want, but you seem pretty shaken up. Do you want to stay here? I know it’s only another floor up in the same damn building, but...you’re alone down there.”

She didn’t say anything right away, and Bucky felt sheepish 

“Nevermind. Forget I—“

“Yeah. I’d like that. I can sleep out here. You have a very comfy couch.”

“Ok, well, listen. My ma would roll over in her grave if she knew I’d had you sleep on the couch. I just changed the sheets today. You can sleep in the bed.”

“You’re not gonna let that one go, huh.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Ok. Let me go brush my teeth and put my pajamas on.” 

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“Maybe. Yeah.”

“Alright, doll. Let’s go.”

Millie slipped her clogs back on and grabbed her keys out of her purse, leaving the bag where it had landed. He followed her down the stairs to wait for her.

She pulled on her pajamas, a dark blue cotton poplin set with long pants and short sleeves resembling the pajamas Bucky would have worn back in the day. She stuck her feet in her slippers, and shuffled to the bathroom. After brushing her teeth, washing her face, and popping her contact lenses out, she put on extra deodorant. Just in case.  _ In case of what? _

“Ready when you are, B. Barnes.”

She came out of the bathroom, and Bucky was surprised to see the cotton pajamas his sisters usually wore. She was just missing the pin curls and silk scarf tied around her head. The glasses were back and he adored them. 

“Well don’t you look like a vision of comfort.” 

“I know, they’re very comfy.”

“Come on, let’s get you to bed, it’s flower day tomorrow.”

He remembered. She smiled and followed him back up the stairs and let her into his room. 

“Extra blankets are in the trunk here,” he pointed to the foot of the bed, “you can plug your phone in here. Or charge it, I don’t really understand how it works. You just drop it on there and it has more power tomorrow.” he pointed to the charging pad on his nightstand and shrugged.

“And if you need something, anything, I’m right out there. Now get some shut eye, teach. You’ve had a long day.”

She turned down the soft duvet and curled into the sheets. Someone’s got a taste for luxury she thought, as they were the smoothest sheets she’d ever touched. She looked at him meaningfully, holding his gaze before speaking. 

“Thanks for helping me. I...it...means a lot to me, to have someone like you around.”

Her words tore at the little tender part of his heart he’d stored her in.

“Anytime, sweetheart.

—

Bucky closed the door to the bedroom and exhaled loudly. This wasn’t quite what he had in mind when it came to him thinking about taking her to bed for the first time. 

He sat on the couch, and then stood to unbuckle his belt, pulling his jeans off in prep for sleeping, though he didn’t think that was going to come easily. He pulled the throw blanket the assistant had put on the bottom shelf of the coffee table. He turned off the lamp on the end table and stared up at the ceiling, hoping it would somehow lull him to sleep, his eyes following the crown molding directly in his vision back and forth, like it might hypnotize him. 

He shifted, the blanket suddenly stifling. He sat up and turned the light back on, running a hand through his hair.  _ Maybe I should go check on her. No, it’s been less than 5 minutes.  _

He turned to face the other way on the couch, then he heard her get up and open the door, the light spilling out into the hallway. Millie crept toward the living room to find Bucky very much not asleep. 

“Hey...um...this doesn’t feel right. Will you, will you come back with me?” She gestured to the open door, the dim light now looking like a path to heaven, and looked at her quizzically.  _ Were they all like this? _ Ok that wasn’t fair.  _ How many of them were like this? _

His stormy eyes locked with hers, and she looked slightly amused, one of her dimples popping out as looked at him, almost with curiosity. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

Bucky Barnes had never slept in the same bed with a woman. Even lovers, which was something he remembered this moment. Sleeping, sharing space and warmth, well that was something he never got up to. Bucky couldn’t help but cringe, remembering he was a bit of a rake to the women he’d bedded all those years ago. True vulnerability was something he was still learning, and when were you your most vulnerable other than when you’re sleeping? 

_ Well shit.  _

“Ok. Yeah. Ok.”

“Plus, it’s, ah, really cold.”

_ We cannot have that. The least I can do is keep her from freezing.  _

“Ok, I’m...um...I’m getting up now.”

Bucky stood from the couch and moved towards Millie. It was a slightly awkward moment; he wasn’t sure if he should walk beside her, behind her, or in front of her, but at some point over the next few seconds, they both managed to get back into the bedroom. The soft light of the bedside lamp deepened the soft edges of her face. He shut the door.

“Which side do you normally sleep on?” he asked. 

“I don’t have much of a preference?” 

“Alright, let the chips fall I guess, but it looks like you started on this side. Wanna stick with what you know or move on to greener pastures?” 

“I guess I’ll stick with what I know,” she smiled playfully at him, which tore into him again.  _ God where did you come from? _

She got back under the covers while Bucky turned the light off before pulling back the rest of the bed. He found it strange to feel weight on the other side of the bed at first, and they were silent for a moment, the tiny space between their bodies buzzing with energy. Bucky turned to face her back.

“I’m, um, glad you decided to stay.”

She nodded into her pillow, Bucky only able to hear the crinkling of the fabric.  _ Oh now you get shy. _

“Good night, Bucky,” she whispered as she, almost instinctively scooted toward the warmth radiating behind her. 

A few minutes later, he heard her breath even out, surprised at how quickly she drifted off. She turned at one point to face him, her hair in her face, and he reached out to brush it away. Whatever they crossed into tonight, he didn’t think it could go back to the way it was.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, Millie felt the sun shining on her face through the soft linen curtains in Bucky’s bedroom. He wasn’t there, but he’d written a note on the back of an envelope and placed it on top of her phone. 

_ Nov 20 _

_ Good Morning M. Miller,  _

_ I hope you slept well. Went out for my morning run, but there’s coffee on the stove and milk in the icebox. Please make yourself at home. I’ll be back soon. _

_ Warmly,  _

  1. _Barnes_



  
  


She laughed a bit. One in a million, she thought as she slipped her slippers on, folding the note and pocketing it. 

Millie had saved the first note, sticking it into her jewelry box, and she figured she’d add this one, too. The past few weeks she’d sometimes open the box and reread it, admiring the penmanship, tracing the way he wrote out her name. 

She poured herself a cup of coffee from the percolator on the stove and added a little milk, wondering how he remembered how she took it, as he’d pointed out where to find everything. She didn’t want to snoop, but she also really really did. Millie ended up picking up his book he’d left on the end table to see where he was. 

“ _ Cannery Row _ , huh Buck.”

She hadn’t read it since she was in college. It was a short one, which she always appreciated. She stuck a piece of the envelope he’d written her on into

His place in the book, not sure of his feelings on dog earring pages, and flipped to the front. 

She curled her legs up under her on the couch, book in one hand, coffee in the other. Sighing contentedly, so noted how right this felt. Sure, she’d go back downstairs and wash her dishes and go get her flowers and text Bucky and go to work tomorrow (which she was dreading), but right now, this quiet moment, reading the same pages he’d read? She felt centered. 

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Bucky finally returned, she just knew it was however long it took her to read about 50 pages. He was dressed in his running clothes, an athletic jacket draped over his vibranium shoulder, a sheen of sweat still on his body. She was on the couch, cuddled up in the corner, reading his book and drinking his coffee.  _ Ah what a snapshot.  _

“Hey, teach. Looks like you found the coff—.”

She held her finger up to him as she wanted to finish the paragraph she was on. Bucky smiled.  _ Can't break her focus I guess.  _

“Sorry, I wanted to get to a good stopping point, although now that I say that, I realize that I’m reading your book. I’m sorry for...well I’m sorry.” She closed it and held it on her chest, like it was a precious object. 

“Nah, I meant what I said. Make yourself at home.”

“I should get out of your hair. Gotta go get my flowers,” she smiled, then held up the book “what do you think so far? I marked your place.”

“It’s good. Reminds me of…”  _ I can’t say that I grew up during the Depression, not yet anyway… _ “reminds me of my grandparents,” he fumbled. 

“Mmm. I’d love to teach this, but I think the school board would take issue with the...number of prostitutes in it, honestly.” She shrugged and laughed.

“If I remember school correctly, that can’t be much worse than what they’re saying to each other on their way to and from school,” he quipped. 

“Right, but it’s about the illusion that none of that happens. Can’t acknowledge sex at all, but me teaching about the horrors of war is a-ok. Makes no sense,” she swallowed the last of her coffee, “anyway, enjoy, and I’ll get out of here. Leave you to your own devices.” She stood to get her coat and bag and looked up at Bucky, his beautiful blue eyes scanning her face carefully. He seemed disappointed. 

“Ok, well don’t be a stranger. Come back any time,”

Millie gave him a wry smile.  _ Oh why not.  _

“Unless...it  _ is _ flower day...do you—“

“Yes. Let me shower.”

“Same. Meet you in an hour?”

He nodded, feeling like an addict on his way to get more of her. More more more. It was never enough. 

—

Millie’s phone rang while she was brushing her teeth. It was Liz. 

“Sooooo….how did it go?”

“The date?”

“Yeah the date. What else?”

“Well. Not good.”

She explained everything. Liz was shocked. 

“Then I...went to him.”

“You mean, TDH.”

“Yeah. You know.”

“AND?”

“No and. I slept in his bed, drank coffee he made me, and now he is coming with me to get flowers.”

The noise Liz made was otherworldly. Millie pulled the phone away from her ear to avoid losing her hearing. 

“Millie! You slept in the same bed! Oh my god? Oh my god.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m just...honestly I’m so happy for you. I mean, Mike situation aside.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s...I don’t know. Shit, Liz I gotta go,” 

“Alright. Call me!”

Millie threw on some clothes, wrapping a big comfy scarf around herself before putting her coat on. It had gotten significantly colder since the last flower day they spent together and she opened the door to sit and wait on the stoop, though she found he’d beat her out there. His hair still a bit damp from his shower, his eyes were soft when he looked at her. She liked the long hair, she decided. She even liked the stubble. Erick had always had a very trim goatee, which in hindsight she really fucking hated, but the stubble was nice.  _ Stop comparing them _ , she insisted to herself. 

“Are you ready to get some flowers?” 

“I am,” he reached out for the basket to take it from her, “I know you like carryin’ it back, but let me carry it there, will ya?” 

\-- 

Millie set up her flowers for the week, having chosen all white stems this week at the recommendation of Grace, the woman who ran the flower stand at the farmers market. They looked beautiful and with tuberose and stargazer lily, smelled incredible. 

She had a lot of grading to do, and so she bid Bucky farewell, handing him a stem of tuberose after he asked her what the wonderful aroma was that followed them back to the building. Between whatever perfume she wore, and the flowers, his head was swimming in heady scents. He stuck the tuberose in a drinking glass and put it on the end table next to the couch, so he could enjoy it while he finished  _ Cannery Row.  _

When he finished, he stood and stretched and checked his phone. 

He had a text from Sam. 

_ Think we’re gonna have to go to the office tomorrow.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

Sam came to pick up Bucky early in the morning, just as Millie was getting herself out the door. She waved to him as she walked toward school, airpods in, her coffee cup in hand, a heavy tote bag and her handbag on her shoulder. 

“That’s her, right?” 

“Yeah. It is.” 

Bucky’s eyes followed her down the block until she turned the corner. He knew she was nervous about going to work today, given the events that had transpired on Saturday, but if she was worried, her demeanor didn’t show it. She had a spring in her step and a song in her heart based on what he could tell.  _ I’m rooting for you, doll. _

“Does she still not have any idea who you are or what you do?” 

“I mean, if she does, she hasn’t said anything.”

“Do you trust her?” 

“Yeah.”

“Then you should tell her.” 

Bucky grumbled.    
  


“Alright man, I wasn't trying to pry. Let’s get going.” 

\---

Millie had struggled to determine if she should tell any of the administration about the way Mike had treated her over the weekend. She certainly didn’t think it was appropriate, but she was concerned the other teachers would see her as not to be trusted, which was the last thing she’d need. 

Her closest friends at school were one of the art teachers, Julia, and a fellow English teacher, Bryan. They’d . 

Julia had just gotten married over the summer, and was getting ready to go on her honeymoon during their winter break, so much of their conversation was trip planning and suggestions, Millie trying to offer good ideas despite the fact that she hadn’t traveled much at all. 

Today though, Millie was trying to decide if she should confide in her. She also hoped that Mike wouldn’t be waiting for her, though given how soon it was until the first bell, and he had yet to show up, it seemed unlikely. 

  
  


She double-checked her notes for her first class of freshman, waiting until the last possible second for Julia and Bryan, who showed up by the skin of their teeth for first period. She waved to them. 

“About time you two showed up.” 

“Mil! Is it true?” asked Julia.

“Is what true?” 

“You know...that you broke Mike Fiorello’s nose?” 

“No, I don’t think i did that, but he also tried to assault me, so whatever you heard is only half the story, really.” 

“He...apparently put in his resignation this morning,” added Bryan, smirking.

“Wait...what? That wasn’t my intent.” 

“I don’t think anyone is going to be crying over that loss, but I’m sure some of the shittier meathead teachers will have something to say about it,” he kept going. 

“Honestly, he deserved it,” Julia added, “That guy was such a fucking creep.” 

Millie shrugged. The first bell rang at that point and she picked up her bag and headed to her classroom. 

\--

Bucky and Sam drove in silence to the compound. They usually kept conversation to a minimum when a mission was in the cards for them. 

“You know, if you would read your damn emails, I wouldn’t have to text you to tell you we need to go to the office.” 

“Again with the emails. I don’t see how they can be secure.” 

“Maybe we can see if they’ll send the next one via telegram,” Sam grumbled as he made the final turn to get to the compound. Bucky sighed as they rolled through the gates and parked. They were escorted to a conference room, where several suits, all former S.H.I.E.L.D. waited for them. 

“Gentlemen, thank you for coming, please be seated,” the woman, who Bucky thought was named Elsa, spoke first. He’d interacted with her a few times, but he often had trouble with names, especially if he didn’t interact with a person often. 

Around the large glass conference table were several copies of a bound booklet and a file folder set in the middle. Bucky and Sam sat at the same time, tentatively. Usually when there was a presentation, the mission was long. Bucky took the booklet, leaned back in his chair, and flipped to the first page.  _ Project Aurelia, huh? _

“Anders, will you get the lights?” Elsa asked before turning on the projector. 

She began her presentation, which as far as Bucky could tell, the purpose of this initiative would be to prevent cash transfers between cells of Hydra terrorists. The data he and Sam had pulled out of Siberia on what they’d started referring to as their ski vacation had helped Elsa and Anders pull together enough data to determine where cash was coming from, and where it was going. 

“Hold on, hold on, whoa. Ok. You’re saying you want us to find these cells, install this...what is it? Malware? If this is a tech thing, why can’t it be done remote?” 

Elsa went on, explaining that the network was a patchwork with unpredictable behavior, which is why they would need to install everything manually from a distance of at least 400 feet. 

“Who is going to be doing the installing?” asked Sam. 

“I’m glad you asked, Sam. Gentlemen, please meet  J1NX,” Elsa hit a button on her laptop, and a chatbot popped up, prompting them to enter a location’s coordinates, wherein a successful match between predetermined, hardcoded coordinates would prompt deployment of the malware into whatever system was detected nearby without detection. 

“So...this is idiotproof?” Elsa nodded. 

“How many are there?” asked Sam.

“We’re starting with 4. We are hoping by targeting strategic networks, we can either prompt them to build a more robust network, which would be easier for us to track, or that we stop the transfer of payments all together because their system is too brittle.” 

“When?” 

“We are in the final phases of testing J1NX. We think she’ll be ready to roll out sometime in January. We need to teach you how to use it, as well as get input from you on how to minimize risk.” 

Anders piped up, “we think we can increase the distance to trigger the deployment. If that works, these will basically be overnights in the field. You can either do them all at once, or you can break them up. It’s up to you.” 

Sam and Bucky exchanged looks. It seemed easy enough, but it certainly wasn’t the type of mission they were used to. 

“Any further questions, gentlemen?”

Bucky shook his head. 

“Great. Thanks all.” Elsa grabbed her laptop and left, with Anders close behind in lockstep. 

Bucky leaned far back in his chair, his hands readying behind his head. 

“This is not quite my forte, being that I’m over 100 years old and all, but what are they not telling us? This seems too easy.”

“Maybe it is. It’s been hard to hire people to do this work based on what’s been shared with me. I think they’d normally treat us like the special silverware, but times is hard and we already have the clearances.”

“Could be. Wanna go kick the shit out of each other before we head back home?”

Sam grinned “Who you kicking the shit out of, old man?”

“Language,” Bucky quipped.

  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

Bucky had been scarce around their building the few days before the Thanksgiving holiday, the week following their little slumber party. He and Sam spent long hours training to use J1NX, which was much more difficult than they thought it would be. Elsa and Anders had set up training exercises for them, no word from them on how it was going, which Bucky thought probably spoke for itself. Sam had invited him to Thanksgiving with his family, which Bucky declined. He wanted to sleep, forget about emails, and maybe go get flowers with Millie if she was going to be around. 

Wednesday night, he plodded up the stairs, took a very long shower, staring up at the ceiling and imagining Millie waiting for him in bed in a light pink slip he recalled on a girl with no name to be retrieved anymore. 

Millie, though, could not, for the life of her, find the blade for her food processor, which was going to be a problem, because without it, this apple pie she was on the hook for the Thanksgiving dinner at Liz’s wasn’t going to happen. She sat in the middle of the kitchen, all of her cabinet doors open, looking in places she had certainly already perused for the third time. It wasn’t anywhere. 

Sighing, she checked her phone. 9pm. Too late to try and get another one. She had a text though. 

_ Hey! What’s up?  _

_ LOL kill me. _ She responded. 

_ Not a chance. What’s going on, teach? _

_ I can’t find the blade for my food processor so this pie I’m supposed to make is probably going to come from the bodega at this point.  _

_ What do you need the food processor for?  _

_ The crust. I’ve never made one before and the recipe i read said that’s the best way to do it. _

She saw the three dots pop up to indicate he was typing. Then it stopped. Then it started again. Then stopped. 15 minutes dragged by, Millie opening drawers one more time and then checking.  _ Come on, Bucky, what is it? _ She chewed her lip. 

_ Can I come over?  _

She thought for a second. Opening her front facing camera, she checked her face and hair. It was good enough, she figured. She did really want to see him, always, even if he didn’t know it yet. 

_ Sure. Bring alcohol. Gotta drown my holiday sorrows, lol _

\--

Bucky had a memory, the faintest whisper of his mother standing in the kitchen of his childhood home, back bent over the butcher block, her hands covered in flour. It was golden hour, and the light shone through the window over the sink in such a way that Bucky could see the particles of flour suspended in the air. He tried to place the year, the only indicator being the swell of her belly. One of his sisters. 

She shook her hands into the sink to get the flour off when she noticed him standing in the doorway. Brushing a loose tendril of dark brown hair away from her face, she scooped him up and placed him gently in the tiny wooden chair for children that had always lived next to the backdoor of the Barnes household. Bucky later put his school books on this chair, helped his sisters tie their shoes, and finally picked up his sergeant’s hat from it for the last time before he was shipped off. 

Winifred handed him a small handful of sliced apples and told him to be good and wait until she was done with the pie, then they would go play, and Bucky clung onto her every word, seeing her like this. It was odd, seeing both his past self and also sort of...feeling like his past self as well. Like occupying a nebulous space. 

Winifred used her hands, then a rolling pin to spread the dough out into a circle, neatly folding it into thirds and lifting it into the pie pan. After cutting off the excess, she delicately ran her fingers around the edge, creating a ruffle pattern. 

She looked down at the tiny gold watch Bucky’s father had given her many years ago after sliding the pie into the oven. She gestured to Bucky and opened the back door, the two of them going out into the yard to enjoy the last few hours of daylight in late summer. 

Her hands. She used her hands. Bucky smiled.  _ Thanks, Ma.  _ He texted back finally. 

_ Can I come over?  _

Though his mother would probably give him a stern talking to for being so forward with a woman, he wanted to help. He chuckled at her request to bring alcohol, and who was he to deny her? He had another bottle of scotch Sam had brought over during their last movie night. Plucking it off the shelf, he changed out of his pajamas and back into regular clothes, pulled his shoes on and counted to 60. He didn’t want to seem desperate, even though he very much was. 

He knocked softly on the door and Millie jumped about a foot in the air having been waiting impatiently next to the sink after haphazardly sticking everything back in the cabinets, skidding at the mirror and checking her teeth one more time. She rubbed her lips together and smiled.  _ Good enough.  _ She unlatched the door. 

“Well, if it isn’t B. Barnes.” 

“Hiya M. Miller.” 

He pointed to the bottle of whiskey. 

“Hope this isn’t too strong.”

“Nope, that’s perfect. Come on in, I’ll get us some glasses.” 

He slipped his shoes off, placing them next to her collection of boots and sneakers by the door, catching a glance of her bouncing down the hallway, watching the way her legs and perfect behind moved in those damn yoga pants again, her bare feet with wine colored toenails hitting the parquet floors with a soft, pleasant slap. She rounded the corner to the small kitchen and catlike, climbed on the counter using the cabinets to pull herself up to get the glasses, snatching two and jumping back down to the floor, sticking the landing. 

“Whoa there, be careful,” his hand hovering over her lower back, ready to catch her. 

“I got it. I do this every day. Do you want ice? This seems to be the first time either of us will be drinking out of a glass at the same time,” she mused. 

“Nah, straight up is fine with me.” 

“A man after my own heart.” 

_ You have no idea, sweetheart.  _

Bucky broke the seal on the whiskey and poured each of them a healthy dram. She raised her glass to him and took a long swig. 

“Now tell me, kid. What’s got you so worked up about this processor thing?” 

She sighed.

“It’s stupid, really. Liz is hosting Thanksgiving for the first time at her new house in Jersey, so not only did she insist on a homemade pie to impress her petty ass mother in law, I also have to drive to New Jersey tomorrow. Thanksgiving Day. I haven’t driven a car in a decade, so I picked a fine time to remember how to do that.” 

She rolled her eyes. 

“That’s not stupid. I mean, goin’ to Jersey is generally stupid, but that’s not really your fault.” he quipped. He loved how easily he could make her laugh. He loved seeing her comfortable, like when he came back from his run to find her camped out on the couch, nose in a book. It filled him with a little warm ember to know she felt at ease and safe with him. Light, easy, and he knew it was probably because she had no idea who or what he was. He was putty in her hands after he could make her laugh. He’d be in so much trouble if she ever figured that out. 

“I mean, it’s pretty stupid. It’s all in service to the in-laws. Her and I haven’t had a Thanksgiving dinner together since the Obama administration.” 

“I bet it’s been longer for me,” thinking back to Thanksgiving in the mess hall in 1943 “What do you normally do?” 

“Well, this is the first year without...Erick, We used to go to his family’s house in Connecticut. Before she took this on I was kind of counting on eating pizza and watching movies. I really want her to be proud of this, though, so I’m willing to give it a try. I just...holidays have never been a big deal to me, but it’s important to her.”

“Well, you’re in luck. I know a little something about making a pie crust.”

“Wait. Really?” Her eyes sparkled. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Oh my god, you’re a lifesaver. Ok, what do I do first?” 

“Go turn on some music.” he lifted his chin to point to the speakers in the corner, and took a long swig from his tumbler.  _ Dear God don’t let me fuck this up. _

Her smile never left her face as she flipped the switch and turned on a playlist she had made earlier. The music didn’t sound like much Bucky was familiar with, but it was pleasant nonetheless. He put down the scotch and rolled up his sleeves, tapping his socked foot to the music. He’d have to ask her who this was so he could listen to it again. 

“Ok, do you want me to do this part or do you want to do it while I explain it?”

“Honestly? How about I make the filling and you make the crust? I don’t want to fuck it up..”

“Got it. Let me know if you need help with that too. I’m pretty good with a knife.” 

He poured the flour into a mixing bowl Millie pulled down for him after using her kitchen cabinets like a jungle gym again, which made him incredibly nervous.  _ I oughta buy her a step stool. _ He put his metal arm on the small of her back when she landed, just in case. Millie’s heart skipped a beat and she opened another drawer to get out a bag of flour. 

“Ugh, you’re honestly the best. Ok, the butter is in the fridge,” she pointed with her apple peeler, already hard at work peeling and cutting up a small pile of precariously balanced apples. Millie’s kitchen, like his, had an island in the middle, and she stood on one side to work while he stood on the other. He shook his head slightly, the lyrics of the song they were listening to saying something about a  _ girl like you _ .  _ That’s it, I’ve been waiting for a girl like you. _ Yeah, that was about right. It was a girl like her. She was standing 2 feet from him peeling apples, her thick eyebrows knit in concentration, he stance uneven, as she had one foot pointed straight up, and he wasn’t sure if this was always how she stood or if she was nervous.  __ Bucky had to pull himself out of the clouds and back to the task at hand.

_ Get to work Barnes.  _

He took the cold butter and used his fingers to flatten it into thin sheets distributed through the flour. Not bad, he thought. He added a few tablespoons of cold water and mixed with his hands again until it just barely came together. 

Millie looked over at his level of dedication to...a pie crust. It was honestly adorable. He was intense in moments like this. Rock solid focus. The gentle intro to Fleetwood Mac’s “Storms” began just as she had finished mixing the apples with the spices. 

“Oh I love this song,” she said absentmindedly, biting into one of the remaining apples with a loud snap. 

Bucky looked up to see a perfectly content Millie, eating an apple, rocking slowly to the music, not a care in the world. He unfurled the bottom crust into the pan, concentrating hard on making it look pretty. He trimmed off the excess and crimped it. When he was satisfied he slid it across the island toward her. 

“Annnnnd, voila!”

“Oh it’s perfect! Wow! I didn’t take you for a baker,” she smiled slyly up at him. She offered the bowl of apple slices she’d covered in spices and sugar to him silently. He obliged, his mouth bursting with tart, spicy sweetness. He went crashing back into the memory he had earlier. This tasted like home. 

“Delicious. Tastes like my mom made.” 

“Thanks,” she smiled and looked down, suddenly very interested in her pinkie nail, a coral flush painting her face and giving her away.

“Are you blushing, sweetheart?”

“No,” she scoffed. 

“I think you are.”

The silence was thick between them, like they both knew one of them should speak, but what should be said was unclear. Bucky searched her face, smiling softly, then reached across the island to brush her hair out of her sightline and behind her ear.  _ God her skin is so soft _ . She inhaled at his touch, surprised at his boldness. Her oven dinged at this momen, indicated it had preheated. 

“We better get this thing in the oven,” he said softly. 

Millie cleared her throat, “Right. Yeah,” she moved towards him and grabbed the pie out from in front of him and stepped back to admire the view as she bent at the waist to get it in the oven, and set a timer. 

“Ok, 90 minutes. Fuck. It’s gonna be late by then.” 

“You want me to stay?” 

“You don’t have to. I heard you come home; you must be tired.” 

“I am, but I want to stay.” 

Millie nodded, not that surprised by his answer. She pointed to the couch. 

“Make yourself comfortable.”

Bucky sat with a relieved exhale. Somehow everything she owned was soft. She had a few velvety throw pillows on her couch, a soft sheepskin draped over the back, along with a big basket of blankets tucked under her end table. 

Millie turned the music down after washing the dishes, then she grabbed the whiskey and her glass. 

“Let me top you off there, sir.”

“Thanks, doll.”

She sat next to him, and he hoped to catch a whiff of her perfum _ e. I gotta figure out what that is. It’s intoxicating. _

“Thanks again for helping me. You came to my rescue...again.”

“Anytime, I’m happy to help you.”

“Yeah but...you don’t have to.”

“I want to though.”

“Yeah but I literally can’t do anything close to the same for you.”

“Nah, you’re helping me. Don’t count yourself out.”

“Ha, how do I help you? I give you flowers and I gave you a coffee once?”

“You’re my friend. I moved back here after being away for a long time. I don’t know many people here anymore.”

“You’re important to me Bucky. I’m glad you moved in.”

“Yeah? You mean it?”

She nodded, taking in the warm blue of his eyes. Normally icy, they looked like a mellow caribbean sea in the golden light of her apartment. His hair had been a little bit damp when he’d come over, and it had curled up a bit on the ends in the humidity of the kitchen, and the smell of warm baking spices overtook her home. Millie had to laugh internally.  _ Who is this? Who am I? There’s a handsome man on the couch, a pie in the oven, and I don’t even feel a little bit bad about any of it.  _

Bucky slid his arm over the back of the couch toward her. 

“Are you seriously trying to pull that move?” 

“What move?” 

“I know that one. I see my students do it to each other in the library. Been around for a thousand years,” she put her glass on the table and scooted closer to him turning to face him, “if you wanted to come closer, you could have just moved.” 

“C’mere then,’ he gently pulled her toward him, brushing her hair over one shoulder, then pulling her legs over him until she was basically in his lap. 

“Bucky! I’m probably smashing you.” she shouted, the flush coming back to her face. 

“Nope. Not at all.” 

His right hand drew lazy circles on her back, and her hair stood up on edge.  _ God, when was the last time someone touched me so...gently?  _

“You...you have to know I know, don’t you?” she asked suddenly, but quietly. 

“Know what?” 

“Don’t play dumb with me, I know. Bucky, I can feel your eyes on me when I’m walking around. You don’t have to say anything, but I think we both feel something. We don’t have to talk about it now, but we should talk about it,” she swallowed. 

He exhaled.  _ Well honey, if that’s how you want to do it... _

“Maybe we could talk about it over dinner sometime? Let me take you out instead of following you to the flower stand like a stray puppy dog?” 

“Oh but you have such nice taste in flowers, Buck. I’d hate for our ritual to end.” 

“Who said it had to end? Let me take you out Saturday, then we go get flowers Sunday.” 

“That’s an awful long time to spend together,” she raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Who’s countin’ the hours?” he mimicked her expression. 

“Fair point. Dinner sounds great. Now I call uncle, I gotta go check on this pie.” 

Bucky groaned, “Leave it to a pastry to interrupt.” 

“Oh hush, I’m coming back,” she moved her legs gently over his and moved to stand “You’ll know where I am the whole time.” 

“Nah doll, I’m dying over here.” 

“I believe you’ll persevere.” she said solemnly. 

Millie opened the oven, the pie bubbling up and almost hissing a bit as she pulled it out to check it for crispiness.  _ Looks good enough to me.  _

She exhaled softly and went back to the couch. 

“Now where were we?” 

“I was talking about taking you out.” 

Bucky realized this would be the first date he’d actually gone on in 70 years. It made him, the Winter Soldier, former Hydra Assassin, giddy to think about. She lightened his heart. Sure, she’d someday have to learn what it was that he did and does, but until that moment, he was going to cherish every second with her, memorize every part of her she let him see, grab on and not let go for as long as he could. 

“Mmm you were talking about taking me out. Well, B. Barnes. Where were you planning on taking me?”

“Where do you wanna go?” 

“Nope, you gotta figure it out. I want to be surprised.” 

“Ha, no pressure, huh?” 

“Honestly, no pressure. I already know you.” 

That tugged at him like a little kitten nipping his ear. Sharp in it’s newness, but not too painful.  _ No, you kinda don’t.  _

“Alright, I won’t let you down, now come back here,” he pulled her back to him and she closed her eyes in absolute bliss.  _ Just to rest for a minute. Just for a minute.  _

  
  



	12. Chapter 12

Bucky thought about going home that night, and he didn’t think sleeping here was entirely appropriate, but he’d spent so much of his life not having any control that when he could afford himself a small indulgence, like letting a pretty woman sleep soundly in his arms, he didn’t think there’d be too much harm done. Millie looked almost amused in her sleep, a look of total serenity painted across that gorgeous face of hers.  _ She trusts me not to hurt he _ r, he thought, then immediately remembered that he needed to trust himself with himself. 

Late nights spilling into early mornings were always the hardest, when he felt the most alone. He’d worked so hard the past few years to feel like his old self, but there was never going to be a bulletproof solution to undo what had been done to him. He wanted so much more from her, but he didn’t think he should take it, even though he was pretty sure she was giving it. He looked down at her again, brushing some of her hair out of her face, and she stirred a bit. He let himself fall asleep again. There were very few people still alive he’d willingly sleep in front of, since human beings are their most vulnerable in their sleep, but he felt safe. At ease. 

__

Millie woke with a start, taking a second to take account of her surroundings and where she was. She was on the couch, curled into Bucky’s chest, her hair plastered to her cheek. Bucky’s right arm dangled across her lazily. 

“Shit,” she whispered.    
  
_ What time is it?  _

She quietly and carefully tried to reach the coffee table to get her phone, trying to avoid disturbing her companion. 10:30am. 

“SHIT!” she shouted. 

Bucky jumped slightly then cleared his throat before speaking, his voice groggy with sleep. 

“Good morning to you too.” 

“No no no no, it’s not you. I’m just...going to be very late. I have to go pick up my car and I am...probably not looking great.” 

“You look just fine to me,” he said, brushing her bangs down for her. 

“Oh stop, there’s no time to make me swoon.”

“I make you swoon, huh?” 

Millie gave him a dirty look, stood, pulled her ratty oversized sweatshirt up over her head, while running to the bathroom revealing a lacy longline bralette. He heard the faucet turn on and the sound of several toiletries and cosmetic product opening and closing. An unexpected metallic clang as something hit the floor, then a loud whooshing noise. 

“Is...uh...there anything I can do to help?” he asked sheepishly. 

“Yeah, can you wrap that pie in foil? It’s in the drawer next to the fridge.” 

“You got it.” 

Millie ran out of the bathroom into the bedroom, her hair done up in a french braid, some pieces haphazardly sticking out. She looked into her closet, suddenly unsure of what to wear to impress Jake’s parents. She’d only seen them maybe twice since Liz and Jake’s wedding. 

“You alright in there sweetheart?” Bucky called again.

“Yeah...just...trying to figure out what to wear.” 

“Anything else I can do?”

He put the foil back in the drawer, turning to make coffee.

“Yeah, open the hall closet, there’s a few tote bags in there. Can you put the pie in one?” Millie flipped through the hangers, finally selecting a pair of black cigarette pants and a rust colored sweater. She slid earrings into her ears, socks onto her feet, and almost literally jumped into her cowboy boots. She spritzed Coco Mademoiselle into her hair to cover up the smell of the copious amounts of dry shampoo she’d used to try and look presentable. 

Pretty much out of breath, she ran into the kitchen, where Bucky had just poured her a cup of coffee and handed it to her, which she accepted graciously by drinking almost all of it in one go. 

“You always seem to be in the right place at the right time.” 

“Well, that’s the perk of living upstairs, isn’t it? You cleaned up nice, by the way. Got me feeling like a bum over here.” 

“Oh shush.” she tapped his shoulder playfully, finishing her coffee. 

_ Ugh, I don’t want to leave him.  _ She pulled out her phone and pulled up her email to check her rental car registration. 

“Oh fuck,” she said simply. 

“What is it?” 

“I...made my reservation for the wrong weekend,” she clapped a hand on top of her head, “Shit. Ok, I think I can take the train. Fuck. This...fuck.” 

“Let me drive you.” 

“No, that’s ridiculous. No.” 

Bucky had been taking one of the Stark fleet vehicles from the compound the past few weeks as they were spending more time at the office. He and Sam drove to work together often because it allowed them some time to get to know one another, which was important, but lately they’d both been too tired for that. 

“No it’s no problem.” 

“Bucky, traffic is going to be horrible. I don’t want to do that to you.” 

“Nah, it’s ok. Get your things. Let me finish my coffee, and then we can move out.” 

Millie pursed her lips. Liz was not going to like this. She was going to feel obligated to feed him, but then be upset that there wasn’t going to be enough food. Bucky had met Liz, so she figured he probably understood her whole vibe. It probably wouldn’t be a big deal. And, she had to admit that having someone reliable around to help her out of various scrapes was both refreshing and incredibly helpful. 

“Ok fine. But you’re gonna have to accept leftovers as payment. I won’t take no for an answer.” 

“You drive a hard bargain, Millie, but I’m willing to accept your terms.” 

Millie got her coat and grabbed the pie and the wreath she’d gotten for Liz as a hostess gift. There was still coffee in the pot when she came to drop everything on the island, and so she shooed Bucky out of the way and climbed up to grab a travel mug out of the cabinet. She filled it with the remaining coffee. 

“For the driver.” 

“I really wish you would stop doing that.” he cringed when she handed it to him. 

“Can’t tell me what to do yet,” she grinned. 

\---

Bucky opened the door for her, secured all of Millie’s belongings in the trunk, and carefully backed out of his parking spot. The car, a very reliable and unostentatious grey BMW, had surprised Millie. Bucky pulled onto the highway, and Millie noticed he was a careful driver. 

They didn’t speak much, and traffic wasn’t as bad as she had envisioned. When they finally pulled off in Westfield, driving through the small, idyllic downtown, Bucky was in a world he’d had never really experienced. He went straight from  Brooklyn to the front to Hydra to the Avengers compound back to Brooklyn, so a small town was foreign to him. The sun was shining, and the last of the leaves on the trees were lazily blowing in the chilly breeze. _God this looks like a fucking calendar._

Millie read out the address to him, and after a few minutes more, they pulled up in front of an old Tudor style home with a Range Rover parked in front. 

“Ah shit, I didn’t beat them.”

“Beat who?”

“The Van Camps.”

“That’s the in-laws?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll do fine. Liz will do fine.”

He put a hand on her knee and squeezed. 

“Yeah, they’re just...so not like Jake at all. I have no idea how they’re even related. Either way, thanks for driving me. I really can’t thank you enough.” 

“It was my pleasure. Do you want me to come pick you up?” 

“Nope, I think Liz can be on the hook for that one. I’ll be back late tonight.” 

She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned over to give him a quick peck on the cheek, her lips soft an pillowy on the four day beard he’d amassed this week. His lip twisted slightly. 

“Agh, sorry. You have lipstick on you now,” She moved to press her thumb to his face to wipe it off and he gently stopped her by gripping her wrist. 

“Leave it.” 

She laughed. 

“Ok, Romeo, can you pop the trunk?” 

He laughed and hit the button. 

“Have a good time, sweetheart.” 

“Thanks,” she turned and started to walk up the stone path up to the door, Bucky watching her fememine wiggle as she strutted up to the door looking like a queen (well, one wearing cowboy boots). She turned back to him “And happy thanksgiving, Bucky.” 

“You too.” He waved and backed out of the driveway. He touched his cheek, his fingers coming back with the slightest hint of a blue red. 

_ Lipstick smells better than it used to.  _

\--

When the Van Camps finally cleared out around 7, Liz shut the door behind them and kicked her shoes off, her platinum bob only slightly dishevled after a day of cooking. Somehow she’d kept 5 inch pumps on all day. She worked in the fashion industry, so Millie wasn’t that impressed, trying to focus as she packed up a plate for Bucky, but the groan Liz let out was almost otherworldly. Millie shoved the plate into the fridge and met her sister up front, where Liz had perched on the bottom step. 

Jake made his way to the foyer and picked up her pumps, handing Liz another glass of wine. 

“You did good, baby.” he smiled at her. 

“I think we did fine. Now we can do whatever we want for christmas.”

“Millie, I was meaning to ask you, who dropped you off?” 

“Yeah, Mils, why don’t you tell Jake who dropped you off?” 

Liz was smiling wickedly. 

“Um. He’s my neighbor.” 

Liz rolled her eyes. 

“Yeah, something like that. I think Millie has it bad for him though.” 

Jake laughed and rubbed Liz’s shoulder, smiling at Millie. Jake was equally relieved that Millie’s life hadn’t taken a downward spiral when she broke up with Erick, maybe almost as much as Liz. 

“Well, I’m gonna go finish the dishes, and maybe you girls can head back to the city then?” 

“Thanks, Jakey,” Liz smiled at him. 

Millie waited until Jake made it all the way back to the kitchen before she spoke again. She cleared her throat. 

“He’s...uhm...taking me out Saturday.” 

“MILLIE!” 

“I think you’ve squealed like that more in the past few months than you have your entire life thus far.” 

“I am just...I’m so excited for you. Where is he taking you?” 

“I don’t know yet...he...um...he came over yesterday and helped me make the pie. I was so late because we both fell asleep on the couch, which is why he ended up driving me.” 

Liz looked like her head was swimming, as she subtly shook her head up and down. 

“Honestly, I am so happy for you. He...really seems like a great guy. I only wish I’d thought to invite him to dinner,” she scoffed. “God, can you imagine the look on Blythe’s face when she saw a giant man with  _ LONG _ hair showing up to ruin her perfect country thanksgiving?” 

She and Millie laughed together on the stairs. 

“So, important thing. Probably the most important. What are you going to wear?” 

“Well, it’s dinner, don’t know what we’ll do afterward, but I was thinking a dress.” 

“That’s not specific enough. Which dress? I know your wardrobe. Which one?” 

“Uh…the black one? With the dolman sleeves?” 

Liz made a face. 

“Ok, maybe not. Maybe that velvet one that I wore the night I met him?” 

Liz scrunched her face further, shaking her head no. She stood and grabbed Mille’s hand. 

“You’re lucky, my closet is organized now. It’ll be easy to find something.” 

They went up the stairs, to the main bedroom, where Liz opened the doors to her opulent closet. Much of her clothing had been in storage during their years in Brooklyn, as there simply wasn’t space for it, but now that she had the space, everything was organized to a t. Nothing was out of place. Liz walked along the racks, pulling stuff down and holding it up. Some of them were an immediate no in Millie’s mind, like the long green gown with dramatic fringe and the grey satin micro mini with no straps. 

“Ok, I think it’s one of these three.” 

One was white with an exaggerated stiff lace collar, the hem coming down to about the knee. 

“I think this would look nice with that brown leather jacket you have and those cowboy boots you always wear. 

“It’s a little...um...virginal?”    
  
“Is that NOT what you’re going for?” Liz giggled. 

“Well, what’s next?” 

“This one is sweet but boring. Men love this kind of shit.” 

It was a light and airy black floral print chiffon knee length dress with a cinched shirred waist and a sweetheart neckline. 

“Ehh, let’s make that the backup. This next one better be a showstopper.” 

“Yeah, I think you’re gonna like this one. It’s gonna make that rear of yours look like dynamite.” 

Millie rolled her eyes. Liz held up a soft pink, drop waisted, micropleated dress with a loose waist. The dress had a scoop neck, with softly draped pleated sleeves and a long slit down the back, fastened with a single button at the top. 

“Oh,” Millie breathed, “that’s gorgeous.” 

“Ankle booties, hair back, long necklace, wool coat but draped over the shoulders,” looking over the dress once more she looked back at Millie and smirked “no lipstick. He’s not going to be able to keep his hands off you in this.” 

“Liz!” Millie thwacked her on the shoulder, feeling herself blush again. 

“So you’ll take it?” 

“I mean, yeah, of course. Where would I be without your closet?” 

“Not very far,” Liz put the other two dresses back in their spots and grabbed a garment bag, zipping the pink dress away to make it back to Brooklyn safely, then she sat on the tufted bench in the middle of the space, “It’s Chloé so mind the red wine and...ahem...his wandering hands.” 

“Oh hush. What kinda gal do you think I am, Liz?” 

“Well, if I remember your college years--”    


“Ridiculous.” 

“Either way, Mil, I’m so happy for you. You...knew how I felt about Erick, and I’m honestly so proud of you. You’ve seemed so much happier the past few months. I hope...I hope this goes the way you want it to.” 

“Me too. I just...he’s...so gentle, and so fucking adorable. Like he’s from another time. I don’t know.” 

“You wouldn’t think that by the look of him,” Liz grinned and put her hands on her knees and stood. She dug out a pair of sneakers and slipped them on, “Let’s go get your leftovers and get you back home.” 

“Liz?”    
  
“Yeah Mils?”

“I love you. I don’t know where I’d be without you.” 

“And my closet,” she smiled “but...yeah. Back at ya.” 

\-- 

Liz helped Millie back into her apartment, throwing the flashers on her ailing Volkswagen in front of her building, Millie leading the way with her leftovers and Liz following with the garment bag slung over her shoulder, all of which Bucky observed through the picture window. 

If what was in the garment bag was anything like what Millie had worn on Halloween, they were never going to make it out of the building on Saturday. 

An hour or so later, Bucky thought he heard her footsteps, and moved to the foyer, noticing a note that had been shoved under his door and the faint patter of her going back down the stairs. 

_ Nov 23 _

_ Dear B.,  _

_ I have returned from New Jersey in one piece. I have your payment sitting in my fridge. My hope is you will come to collect it post haste, as you should be handsomely rewarded for your part in safely transporting me. I know it was not an easy task. And I want to see you again.  _

_ Warm Regards,  _

_ M _


	13. Chapter 13

“So where should I take her?” 

Sam and Sharon looked at each other knowingly, amused, both trying to imagine Hydra’s key asset making an apple pie to help a gal in distress. Bucky brought them up to speed on everything, seeking advice from the closet people he had in his life to friends. 

“Wellllll,” Sharon began, “What kind of vibe are you trying to convey?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about any of this. It’s like I’ve been dropped in the middle of the ocean or something.” 

“Do you want to be like...a thing with her?” 

“What’s a thing? Like together?” 

Sam laughed, “Yeah man, like together. Is that what you want?” 

“I...think?” 

“Is that Barnes-ish for yes?” 

“I..yeah.” 

“Alright, then I think you take her somewhere not too pretentious, but nice. There’s a new farm to table place in your neighborhood that’s supposed to be stellar,” Sharon added. 

“What is...farm to table? Isn’t that all food?” 

“Ok, that might be awkward for everyone.” 

“Oh! I know the perfect place,” Sharon seemed to pull an answer out of the air. She took a sticky note off her desk and wrote down a name and address, “you should probably try to get a reservation. I don’t think it’ll be a problem, but, you should.” 

“Goosefoot,” Bucky cocked his head. 

“It’s very homey and cozy, and since that seems to be your guy’s vibe so far...maybe that’ll be good.” 

“All right. I’ll give ‘em a call.” 

“You should ask them for the Saturday special. It’s a bottle of wine and a whole roasted chicken. It’s to die for.”

Sam lost his shit. 

“Man, nothing to get a girl going like half a chicken and a half a bottle of wine,” he said through heaving gasps of laughter. 

“Actually, that kind of sounds like her. I think...I think she’ll like that.” 

“Ok man, whatever you say.” 

“Wherever you take her though, Barnes, she’s gonna have a great time,” Sharon added. 

“Yeah, yeah. What should I wear to this bless’ed event?” 

“I don’t know. Something mildly nicer than what you’re wearing now? No need to go all out.” 

“God, I wish dance halls were still a thing and I could just wear my dress greens again. Makes it so much easier.” 

But he was only putting on a veneer of cool for his coworkers. He was thrilled to have help, ecstatic to have something to look forward to. He stood and clapped a hand on Sam’s back. 

“We should get back to our other lady in waiting, J1NX.” 

\-- 

Millie spent Friday catching up on work and deep cleaning her apartment, which still had some random pieces of Erick paraphernalia hanging around, which she marched out to the dumpster and threw it in with a satisfying plop as it landed. She then went to bed early. 

Bucky noticed her lights were off when he got home, and he let himself imagine for just a second that he was going into her space, to lay next to her, to pull her close so he could keep her warm.  _ Someday. I hope. Someday. A lot more things gotta go right.  _

\--

Millie pulled the dress over her head and reached behind her to button the button, but found she couldn’t do it, the button being too slippery and the elastic buttonhole being too difficult to grasp.  _ Well, this will be a first _ , she thought as she realized she was going to have to ask Bucky to button her dress for her. 

She looked good, she thought. She’d twisted her hair into a low chignon, some of the feathers of her bangs hanging loose. She spritzed herself with perfume and added her “my lips but better” lipstick. 

She checked her phone, realizing it was about that time. She brushed her teeth one more time, trying to convince herself this wasn’t a big deal. It was just Bucky. She heard a knock at her door then. She counted to 5 before walking over to open it. Bucky stood in a similar outfit to the one he’d worn to see her production of the Crucible. He’d shaved for the occasion, and he looked and smelled so good. But she...she looked incredible. Her dress hung on her frame fetchingly, the fabric somehow being both floaty and soft and incredibly form fitting in all the right places. 

“Hey,” she said. 

“Hi,” he reached for her and pulled her into a hug. He felt her bare back. Mille’s dress was open, “Doll, this feels a little premature.”

“Shit. I meant to ask. Can you button my dress for me? I can’t do it. Trust me, tried everything.” 

“All right, turn around.” He brushed her hair away from her back and delicately threaded the button into the buttonloop. He ran a hand down her back to smooth the dress.  _ Kinda wish we could skip dinner,  _ “Ok, done. Now let me get a proper look at ya,” taking her hand and slowly spinning her around. 

“Bucky, you’re being ridiculous.”    


“It suits you. You look...gorgeous.” 

Millie giggled involuntarily. 

“Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.” 

She turned and got her got, draping it over her shoulders the way Liz told her to. She checked herself out one more time in her coat closet mirror.  _ Damn, Liz is never wrong about this shit. _

“Shall we?”

—

When they walked up to the restaurant, Millie was pleasantly surprised. She’d wanted to try it for a while, but Liz didn’t really do comfort food and Erick didn’t really do dates. 

They ordered the tasting menu with wine, and as they waited for the first course.

“This is kinda odd, because...I mean I already know most of the things I would ask on a first date, Bucky.”

“I suppose so. We could talk about why we’re here.”

“The thing I know?”

He nodded as the server returned with their wine glasses. He smiled up at the server and thanked her as she filled their glasses. Milled pulled it towards her. 

“Maybe that should wait. Why don’t you tell me about your day?”

Bucky explained J1NX and Project Aurelia as best he could without getting too specific, and Millie seemed genuinely interested.  _ Maybe this could work? _ Not that being interested in his work was the most important thing to him, but he thought it would help. When he inevitably had to tell her. 

Millie had been teaching The Canterbury Tales, which she kind of hated because British lit wasn’t totally her thing, but the kids seemed to be engaged, which was the important thing. 

Sharon had been right about the restaurant being perfect. The light was low, it was nice and quiet. The food was simple and comforting. Her face illuminated by candlelight made her look ethereal, or at least like a heavily airbrushed photo of the actress who had her same face from his own time. Bucky didn’t often feel content in places with a lot of other people, but here, with her, eating expensive versions of the food his mother would have cooked that were somehow...better was exactly where he wanted to be. 

“I just...you’re just…,” he tried to put words to the moment. 

She laughed into her glass. 

“Are you tongue tied? You? Who has been presumptively calling me ‘sweetheart’ or ‘doll’ since the moment I met you?” 

It was Bucky’s turn to blush. 

“I’m glad we finally did this.” 

“Finally?” 

“I was curious about you the moment I saw you. I’ve been...trying to ask you out since you know who moved out.” 

“I was…afraid of you the first time I saw you.” 

“Yeah, the arm--” 

“No. I saw you the day you moved in. You dropped your keys and when you stood up I was like…’I will be an absolute mess unable to speak in sentences around that guy.’ I seriously don’t think you know how handsome you are,” she added with a smile. 

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, pulling his wine glass close to him again and swirling what was left around before swallowing it down. 

“What...changed your mind?” 

“I mean, it’s not every day a guy comes and sits next to you on the stoop when your life is falling apart.”

“Ah hell, I mean...I couldn’t leave you out there by yourself.”

The server comes back with their dessert, a crispy, crackly pear tarte tatin with creme anglais on the side, along with a small glass of port for each one of them.  _ God, people still drink port? _ They ate in a comfortable silence.

“You have...you’ve,” he tapped the corner of his mouth, to signal to Millie she creme anglais that hadn’t quite made it to her tongue. 

“Oh, sorry,” she dabbed at it with her napkin “this is just...so damn good. You’re gonna have to carry me home or I’m falling asleep in this chair.” 

“I can carry you home.” 

“I’m sure you could.” She raised her eyebrows, “but which floor would you take me to?” 

His stomach flipped. 

“Should we have that conversation we’ve been meaning to have?” 

“Gosh, can’t flirt with you at all tonight, huh?” 

“I just...if you...I don’t want to...if you don’t…” Bucky was highly embarrassed at how terrible he was at being smooth in the 21st century.

“Well, stop that. I want to.” 

He nodded, processing. 

“So you mean--” 

“Yeah, I mean. Look, we don’t have to be so serious, and I am not planning on seeing anyone else right now. I was with Erick for ten years, but the last five I was a ghost to him. I want to have a little fun, and if...well if it makes sense, then I want more. I could be wrong but it feels like you’re in the same place. That’s...that’s all I know. Other than I can feel you looking at my ass all the time.” 

“Can you blame me? God, i’d take a nap on it if you’d let me.” 

“Bucky, we are in public!” She feigned a scolding tone, but Mille would never tell him how flattered she was. It felt good to be wanted, to be desired, after being ignored by Erick for years. 

“You brought it up.” he shrugged. 

“Alright, well...you must have something to say, since  _ you _ kept bringing it up.” 

_ Well, here goes nothing. _

“I haven’t been in a relationship for a long time. A really long time. I don’t know if I remember how to be, but I...feel...content with you.” He paused...don’t just make it about yourself you dummy. “And I want...to make you happy, that’s really what I want. I want you to know that you’re cared for and…” he almost said it. 

_ Loved. You’re loved.  _

Can’t say that now, that’s hard to unsay. 

_ Why did I think that? I guess we can dig into that later. It’s too soon.  _

“...Appreciated, you’re appreciated.” 

“Awww, Buck. I appreciate you too.”

The server came back with their bill, and slid it onto the table.

“Whenever you’re ready,” she said with a quiet smile. 

Millie reached into her purse and grabbed her wallet, pulling a credit card out and tried to put it on the table. Bucky remembered back to his conversation with Sam. 

“No chance. Your money’s no good here.”

“Bucky.”

“You think I’d let a pretty thing like you buy your own dinner? The least I can do is feed you.” 

Coming from anyone else’s mouth, Millie would have been annoyed, maybe appalled at the casual objectification, but...it was sweet coming from him.

“Thank you. This has been...nice.”

He nodded again. At this point, neither of them knew what to do next, and the air between them was nearly electric. 

“You...uh...wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah, but where?”

Her eyes burned back at him, and he put it all out on the line. 

“Mine?”

She laughed quietly. 

“Yeah, Bucky. I do want to go back to yours.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	14. Chapter 14

Bucky helds Millie’s coat open for her and she instinctively found both sleeves.

“Can’t have you freezing on the way home,” he quips. 

He wasn’t sure what to say after that. It’s suddenly become very clear, again, that what she’s expecting, what he’s taking her back to his place to do, or at least try to do given how much butter and wine the both of them have consumed in the past 2 hours, he hasn’t done out of free will in decades. He’d occasionally have to seduce targets in his days as the fist of Hydra, but he doesn’t remember many of those instances clearly, nor were they common. He knows it still works, but god...that kind of touch. 

He followed her to the door, his heart doing cartwheels in his chest. She walked with a certain confidence he’d not noticed on their walk over, the heels of her boots hitting the sidewalk with a click then a crunch from the concrete that seemed to get louder with every step. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the revelation, but she was absolutely buzzing with energy. 

By the time they turned on to Oak, they were almost jogging, the steam of their breath billowing up into the cold night sky. Millie stumbled a bit on one of the cracks in the uneven sidewalk, and she rocked forward slowly to regain her balance. Bucky held his arm out for her and she took it. 

“We should slow down,” she said, “We got time.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t want to waste any more of it,” he replied looking back at her, “We’re almost there.” 

His arm intertwined with hers, he was almost pulling her down the street, trying to be gentle though his eagerness to get her home was abundantly clear, as he picked up the pace. 

“I meant what I said about carrying you,” he declared, Milie giggling as they halted in front of their building. 

“This is me,” she deadpanned. 

“Well I’ll be. You’re never gonna believe this, miss, but I live in the same building.” 

“Huh. The neighborhood is really going to shit then, isn’t it?” 

“Eh, I wasn’t the first of the riff raff to move in.” 

Bucky let go of her and flipped the hinge to the gate, letting it swoop open slowly. He was giving her an out, which he was attempting to communicate to her wordlessly, a goofy grin plastered on his face. 

Millie reached up and touched his face, her eyes fusing with his, and the humorous facade they’d both been putting up crumbled. Bucky breathed in and closed his eyes. Touch that didn’t hurt was still relatively a new concept to him. Handshakes, even a slight tap on the shoulder to get him to move aside, was something he had to learn to accept again. 

But this was different. He craned his head to settle into her hand further, almost like a kitten, even though her hands were stone cold. The wind blew mercilessly through her thin coat and it smelled like it might snow. The gate had gained enough momentum to swing back to the latch, and Bucky caught it with a gentle ting from his left arm, pulling away from her hand, regrettably. 

“Sweetheart, I’m not trying to rush you, but can we go inside?”

“God, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” she breathed, but didn’t move. 

“Probably all that wine?” 

And then it became a dare. Who would go up the stairs first? Who would admit it first? The tip of Millie’s nose and the tops of her cheeks were pink from the cold, pieces of her hair billowing behind her, her eyes glazed with gold from the porch light, when she put her foot on the first step. 

“Come on, I think it’s gonna snow,” she called over her shoulder. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

He passed her and Bucky shoved his keys into the lock, twisting with slightly shaking hands. He took her hand again and led her up the stairs, trying to go at a reasonable pace. Halfway up he stopped for a second, his senses honed over decades of espionage telling him something was off. He held up his hand to her for a second. 

“Wait here.” 

Millie didn’t like the sudden change in energy, his shoulders strung like a tightened bow, ready to shoot forth if necessary. She sobered up quickly, shifting from her right foot to her left as he approached his door, dread beginning to wash over her.    
  
“Is...Do you need me to go?”    


“I don’t know yet.” He was shorter with her than he intended to be.  _ Sorry sorry sorry _ , he thought,  _ but I can’t let you get hurt. _

The hallway light in their building was perpetually flickering, giving the the space a more ominous look than it really was, which Bucky cursed in this moment. Leave it to the lighting to ruin the mood. 

Finally getting to the landing outside his place, there was definitely something. He’d recognize the knife anywhere: A Gerber Mark II, once always with him during his missions. Jammed into the wood of his door, the knife held up a short note, the contents of which chilled him to his core. 

_ Soldat. _

“Fuck.”

“Bucky, can I come up?” 

“I...I don’t think so.” 

“What’s wrong? Is everything ok?” 

“You need to get out of here. Can you call Liz?” 

“Um, sure. But...can you tell me why?” 

“No. Just...call Liz. Now. I promise I’ll call you later, but you need to leave.” 

Hurt and confused, Millie nodded and went down the stairs to her own door, feeling totally rejected when she twisted the door open. She unlocked her phone to scroll through her contacts list to dial when she heard she heard a tussle happening upstairs. Furniture moving and hitting the floor. She looked up at the ceiling in confusion, quietly slipping her shoes off to sneak back toward the door. Seconds later she heard the distinct noise of glass shattering and, then whoever was the victor moving towards the door. 

She hoped it was Bucky as loud footsteps come barreling down the stairs. She dared to peek through the peephole, and confirmed that at least Bucky was alive, but very much in a hurry to get somewhere, noticing that he took off at a run to get to wherever he was going. 

A few minutes later, she heard someone else, moving much more slowly, attempt the stairs. She would rather not know she decided, tearing herself from the peephole. The door opened and closed again, along with the distinct noise of a car screeching away much too quickly. 

_ Well. What now? _

She was dumbstruck. She knew Bucky had told her what he wanted her to do, but she didn’t like being in the dark about why. Someone had broken in. Someone had been waiting for him. At a loss as to what to do, she punched 911 into her phone, feeling angry tears rising in her throat. 

Millie called the police and started sobbing. 

—

30 minutes later, Millie sat in the back of an ambulance that had arrived after the dispatcher assumed she was having a panic attack. An EMT had wrapped a scratchy wool blanket around her while the police inspected the property. 

They had discovered an explosive device on the roof, which shook Millie to her core. It had not been detonated, of course, but that was still chilling. 

The damage to the building wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but the front picture window of Bucky’s space was totally blown out, the first responders explained. But the fire department was still there to make sure it was structurally sound and safe to inhabit. 

That could take a few days, the cops explained to her. They let her in very briefly to grab her important documents, laptop, and some clothes. Bucky was nowhere to be found, and Millie was utterly confused about the mixed messages she’d gotten from the men who had attempted the fire and the man himself. She put her head in her hands, rubbing at her temples to help ease the mounting tension in her neck and shoulders. 

“Ma’am, do you have somewhere you can stay tonight?” the EMT sitting in the ambulance asked her? 

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Let me call my sister.”

About an hour later, Liz pulled up. She left the car running and the door open as she went to her sister’s side. 

“Hey, hey. I’m here. Are you ok?”

“Yeah I’m fine I think. Just...surprised.”

“Alright, well let’s get you back to our place. I’m gonna go talk to the cops.”

“Nah it’s no use, Liz. They don’t know shit and won’t say shit. They just said they’d call when they knew more and if I could move back in. I don’t know.”

“Ok…,” she said carefully, “do you have all your stuff?”

Millie kicked the backpack next to her to call Liz’s attention to it.

“Enough of what they’d let me grab.”

“Mmmm.”

Millie hesitated. She didn’t want to leave.  _ What if Bucky comes back? What if they come back? I can’t leave my home.  _

She realized that was an absolutely asinine thought. I am a grown woman. I have to do what’s right for me. She didn’t think this would be the end of whatever she’d started, messy as it was, but she certainly would have some pointed questions for the man who’d treated her with such tenderness the past few months.  Sighing, she picked up her backpack and gave back the blanket, the EMT smiling sadly at her as she got into Liz’s car.  _ So much for that I guess. _


	15. Chapter 15

Bucky felt really really really guilty. Like worse than he’d ever felt about letting anyone down, even Steve. Fucking Hydra. He’d never be free of them. He didn’t have the strength to look her in the eyes when he’d told her she’d had to go, but he heard the disappointment and concern in her voice. That was the first cockup. Running off without making sure she was safe or his attacker was truly dead was the second. The third was morphing from Bucky Barnes back to Winter Soldier mode when pressed with what felt like an inevitability. Them finding him. Three mistakes. You can’t come back from that.

He hit the steering wheel hard, sighing deeply onhis way to the compound. He never wanted to disappoint her. Ever. Especially after she’d been so candid with him. 

“FRIDAY, call Sharon Carter,” he said with a tinge of irritation. 

She picked up on the first ring. 

“Barnes, wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

“They found me.”

Sharon didn’t speak for a moment. 

“Where are you?”

“On my way to you. I’m sending you as many photos as I was able to get.”

“Do you need us to send someone to—“

“I sent her to her sister’s, but yeah.”

“Done. How far out are you?”

“At least another hour.”

“See you then. Be careful.”

He hung up. He had another call to make. 

“FRIDAY, call Mildred Miller.”

He had no idea what to say as it rang. It went to voicemail and he cleared his throat.

“Hi. It’s me. Bucky. I’m sorry. I hope you’re safe...call me if you...want to. Alright.”

He hung up and grimaced. He was not supposed to be alone in his company car right now, he was supposed to be peeling that little pink dress off of her, taking her hair down, and smothering her in kisses. 

—

Millie stared stone faced out at the street signs as the lights of New York faded into the background. Liz seemed to know better than to say anything, but looked over at her sister at a red light. 

“You look incredible.”

Millie sighed. 

“Thanks. I looked better before. I hope I didn’t ruin your dress.”

“Eh, not a big deal. Looks better on you anyway.”

The light changed, and the snow Millie had predicted had just started falling in earnest. 

“Do you...wanna talk about it?” 

“Not yet.” 

“You mad at him?” 

“I am.” 

“You mad at him forever?” 

“No. Need to talk to him though.” 

Liz knew when her sister’s sentences became clipped and short, she was upset. She pulled into her driveway, parking the car. 

“Look, I’ve never met the guy formally, but from what you told me about him, it doesn’t seem like...well, this doesn’t seem like him. I hope...I hope you get what you want. And with that, I’m not gonna say anything else until you bring it up. Let’s get inside.” 

Millie nodded. She had a missed call and a voicemail. It was from him. She didn’t listen to it. Not now. She should text him back though. She knew he’d worry. Or would he? Not wanting to add any more distance to the rift, she texted him. 

_ I’m at Liz’s.  _

She didn’t bother to mention that their building had a massive hole in the front on account of the broken glass, or the explosives on the roof. Or about the person who followed him out. He probably knew all that. The more she thought about it, the more upset she became. Who was he really?

Liz nudged her softly, and Millie grabbed the backpack she’d put between her feet before they left Brooklyny. Liz said something about minding herself on the snow, and Jake greeted them at the door. Millie waved awkwardly, brushing the snow off her jacket. She made her way upstairs to the guest room, craning her head to hear what Liz and Jake were saying. 

“He...didn’t do anything to her, did he?” 

“No, I think it was all a misunderstanding. I don’t know, she wouldn’t say much.” 

Flipping on the light to the ensuite bathroom, she unpacked her washbag. Her eyes almost lovingly looked over the bathtub, a deep soaker tub surrounded by windows. The snow circled merrily outside, as snow before January always does. Oh why not. She earned it. She was cold, and given that she’d expected to be wrapped around someone who always seemed very warm most of the time, she thought she deserved a little warmth. 

She peeled the dress off, hanging it gingerly in the closet on one of the empty hangers. She could deal with it properly later. Going back to the bathroom, she poured a healthy dose of the rose bath oil she found in the cabinet into the water, the aroma absolutely intoxicating. She slid into the water, submerging herself for a moment. She could feel her hair products dissipating around her, and she felt safe. She snapped a photo of her long shapely legs coming out of the milky water, her feet pressed next to the faucet. Opening instagram, she posted it to her stories, adding “Wild Saturday Night” as her caption. Thirst trap set.

As she sat there marinating in the water, she realized that the biggest reason she was frustrated was that it seemed she was doing everything out of order. Sharing a bed with someone without having touched them. Maybe it was too much, to give so much emotional space so quickly. She felt embarrassed, knowing that maybe she was just after it because Erick had denied her for so long. 

_ Or maybe i’m overthinking. _

She submerged her ears under the water again, staring up at the stark white ceiling above her. If this is what it felt like, did she want to try and do this again? Maybe she should just be alone. She didn’t want to do anything she’d regret, especially since he was her neighbor. 

_ Was. _

\--

Bucky reached the compound a little after midnight, and while Sharon powered up her workstation, he airdropped the photos he was able to get in between trying to kick the intruders ass. Was he a little more brutal than he should have been? Yeah. He wasn’t supposed to be here. 

Sharon didn’t have a ton of information. She chewed her lip, looking to see what she could try to scrounge up. Her best, most educated guess, was that someone on the dark web had gotten wind of Project Aurelia, either on purpose or they were clever enough to get around best in class security protections. 

When she explained that to Bucky, the gears in his head seemed to turn. He spoke after a moment. 

“What do you know about Anders?” 

“Anders Johannsen?” 

M

“Yeah.” 

“He was FBI. Came from cyber crimes.” 

Sharon spoke without turning around to look at him, and Bucky nodded to no one. 

“We should look into him.” 

“Anders. Really.” 

“He’s too bright for his own good.” 

“Tell me more.” 

“How would someone know the intricacies of Hydra networks that well? 

“ _ Does _ he know them well?” 

“Well enough to advise on J1NX.” 

Sharon sighed through her nose. She hoped he was wrong. 

“Ok, I’ll keep an eye on him. There’s not much else we can do tonight. Why don’t you grab a room upstairs and try to get some sleep?”

Bucky hated that she was right. He was fucking tired. The adrenaline from the situation had hollowed him out, and maybe he could try to call her. Maybe it wasn’t too late to try to call. 

“You’re right. I’m beat. Hey...um...thanks for the recommendation. She loved it.” 

Sharon’s mouth twisted up at the corner. 

“I take it your evening was cut short?” 

“That’s putting it mildly.” 

“Next time.” 

He gave another curt nod.  _ If there is a next time.  _

\--

He settled in to the significantly smaller bed in his old room at the compound. He looked at her last message again. He knew she had to be upset, and he didn’t blame her, but that didn’t make him feel any less disappointment. 

He opened Instagram. He never posted anything. He didn’t even have a profile picture. He had an account to see what Millie had got up to. She was so funny in her captions, and she posted photos mainly of what Bucky assumed were things that amused her. Funny graffiti. Cute dogs. So many flowers, and much to Bucky’s enjoyment, the occasional selfie. He tapped to her profile, seeing she’d posted a new story. 

His heart bottomed out when he saw it was her legs submerged in what had to be Liz’s bathtub. Her skin was so enticingly creamy and smooth, the same dark polish on her toes he’d noticed the night before.  _ Well, at least she got a hot bath tonight. Shame I’m not the one soapin’ her up.  _

He sank back into his pillow, phone still in hand. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this kind of frustration. Where it coils in the belly, with nothing to be done. He watched the story again.  _ Fuck _ . He dropped his phone on the small shelf next to the bed and rolled over, pulling a pillow over his head. He felt both too warm and too cold, the blankets stifling. Maybe he ought to open a window. Sitting up, he looked out to see snow billowing aggressively. So much for that. 

He didn’t...gratify himself often, but he felt the intense stress and tension from the events of the evening begin to crack as soon as he palmed himself through his pajamas. 

There wasn’t much that was overtly sexual about the way she acted in his fantasy world. It was mostly vignettes of him throwing her over his shoulder and jiggling her plump backside with his free hand while she giggled in delight. Even remembering that she trusted him enough to ask her to button her dress tonight was almost more than he could stand, the memory of just a few touches to her velvety skin vivid enough for him to relive.

_ Is this pathetic?  _ He asked as he cleaned himself up, feeling slightly less tense. Maybe. Maybe not. He hit the pillow again, this time feeling lighter. 

God he hoped he hadn’t fucked it up beyond repair. 

  
  



	16. Chapter 16

“So what do you need to do?” 

“Finish my essay on _Midsummer Night’s Dream_ , start reading _A Tale of Two Cities,_ and not fall behind again?” 

“That about sums it up. And if you need help, please please please come talk to me. I would rather know and we can work something out if we need to. Is that clear?” 

“Yes Ms. Miller.” 

“Ok. Good. You may go now, Ms. Petrusi. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Her student nodded. Millie hated when her students felt they couldn’t come to her. Part of the reason she’d chosen teaching as a profession was so she could ensure that no one ever felt as abandoned and alone as she did growing up. She understood pride, and not wanting to admit you needed help all too well, but that certainly didn’t mean her students shouldn’t feel they were in good hands with her. Poor Jessica Petrusi had a hell of a time the past few months, losing her father and her mother not taking it well. Mrs. Petrusi had shown up to school in her bathrobe and demanded her daughter be pulled out of class. Millie's heart softened when she heard the news, the story mirroring her own a little too closely. 

And of course, it was Monday. Millie was still staying with Liz and Jake, having transferred her car rental she’d missed for thanksgiving to the entire week. No one had told her anything about what had happened at her home, nor had she really heard back from Bucky since his last text. The way she looked at it, whatever would happen would happen. But a tiny, ever growing part of her really wanted him to come back and wanted things to be the way they were. Casual. Fun. Maybe it was a good thing they’d been interrupted on Saturday, she reasoned.

But having your privacy violated, a threat in your own home? That...at least merited a pointed conversation. She finished up the last of her paperwork for the day and packed up her tote bag, carting it down the hall toward the English department office, stopping by the main office to grab any mail. 

A thick courier’s envelop sat in the mail sorter, addressed to her. She didn’t recognize the penmanship on the outside, so she curiously shoved into the tote, putting her feet up on her desk when she got there and sliding a bladelike finger down the seal to open it up. 

A thick, smooth vellum envelope slipped out into her lap, the Stark Industries logo emblazoned on the seal. It was from him. She’d recognize the penmanship anywhere. 

_ November 30 _

_ Dear Millie,  _

_ Let me start off by saying I’m sorry. That wasn’t how I meant for our evening to go at all. In case I didn’t say it enough that night, you looked gorgeous (and you probably do today too) and my intent was to, let’s say, get to know you a little better.  _

_ I’m going to be out of town for a bit. I don’t know how long, nor do I really know if you care, but I wanted you to know that I’m not...ghosting you (I think that’s what you said?) I want to see you again more than anything.  _

_ I hope you’re doing well. I really mean it. I worry about you.  _

_ Take Care,  _

_ B _

Bucky had carefully stuffed the note in the envelope, wanting to make sure it arrived in one piece, despite the fact that he knew that wouldn’t be a problem. It was a problem in his head. It was gonna touch her hands and he thought, somehow, in a way that didn’t make any sense, that he wanted to make everything she touched would be perfect. He gave the note to Sharon’s assistant, asking her to ensure it was delivered Monday. He’d been told by Elsa that Project Aurelia had a new deadline bright on Sunday morning, Sam and Elsa standing in his doorway.

They handed him the brief, sharing that due to the breach the night before, they were going to lose their chance if they didn’t act now. Bucky pursed his lips and read each page several times, before it dawned on him for the first time in his life that he didn’t have to do this anymore. 

It was too late to back out of this mission, but for the first time, he realized that he had a choice. He didn’t have to keep doing this. Despite the fact that he was pretty sure Millie would rip him limb from limb if he went to her now, all he wanted to do was to spend his time making her happy, which he knew was a premature feeling. It was too soon to love her, but being the victim of time for a very long period of it, he knew it was all relative and perception.

He imagined the two of them standing in a kitchen in a home that wasn’t familiar, her hip leaning against the counter, hair twisted into a pile on her head, and him handing over a plate of steaming hot pancakes. Looking at her moon-eyed when she slid her lipstick on in the foyer, getting ready to go out. Those adorable glasses on the tip of her nose as she graded papers, her face going on a journey during every one while he brought her coffee (decaf of course.) He wanted it all, and if he kept getting pulled away from what he wanted his life to be to clean up what his life had been, he wasn’t going to get it. 

When the quinjet left New York to drop them back in Siberia, Bucky had a plan cooking. He didn't think he'd be able to stop working, as he didn't think teachers made a whole lot of money, and he wanted them to be comfortable. He'd have to pitch something to management. Something to get him the Clint Barton deal. Training new recruits only. He wanted to be the special silverware for his employer, only to be brought out for the most extravagant of affairs. He started to compile a list in his head, but the most important one was to get another date with her as soon as possible. She couldn't slip through his fingers, and every day she didn't hear from them was a tick on the second hand of her annoyance with him. 

\---

On Tuesday, it snowed again, and the drive into Brooklyn was horrible. Her tiny rental car handled terribly in the soupy mixture of slush and fresh snow, a few close calls stopping her heart during the slog. Millie only just made it in time to school. As she pulled the heavy institutional door to the school open, she hoped she would hear from...anyone as to whether or not she could go back home. She’d been wearing Liz’s clothes to work, which made her feel slightly overdressed to be standing in front of a bunch of teenagers learning about Shakespeare while she wore a Saint Laurent dress. 

Her first batch of classes before her free period flew by, and during her lunch break, she sat, eating salad, her oversize tortoise shell glasses balanced on the tip of her nose as she read essays. One of the student workers dropped off the mail, and there was another thick envelope addressed to her, the same luxurious stationery, the same curly que handwriting. Rolling her eyes, she opened it. 

_ December 1 _

_ M. Miller -  _

_ Yesterday I learned that both apples and strawberries are in the same family as roses. Isn’t that fascinating? I bet you already knew that though. You’re so much smarter than me (prettier too.)  _

_ I made it to my final destination for the week last night. I think I might be back by the end of the week. I don’t really know. I hope you’ve been able to get back into the building.  _

_ \- B _

“Ugh, I know what you’re doing,” she said out loud, despite the fact that she absolutely devoured the short note, hanging on to every word like he’d left her to go off to war (little did she know…) Liz’s words about not needing to know what to do right now echoed in her ears. That was true. She didn’t have to make any decisions now. She could gather information. That was allowed. 

She gingerly put the card back into the envelope and returned to her grading and her salad, trying to determine the subtext of both notes. Bucky wore his heart on his sleeve once you got him going. She didn't think there was a master plan of some kind in place. 

_ The subtext is, “I had to go someplace where I can’t use my phone because of my mysterious job, so don’t call me,” you dummy.  _

The notes, which she had tucked into her copy of Jane Eyre, which her seniors would be starting in a few weeks, were burning a hole into the well loved copy of one of her favorite books. It was like they could see her, hear her thoughts. Why did it feel so much more intimate than a text, or a call? Why was she ok with it?

—

On Wednesday, she woke up with a migraine. Swallowing some acetaminophen, chasing it with coffee, she sat in traffic again in her rented car again, staring at the filthy snow and unimpressive, dark sky, her head pounding in tandem with the beat of her heart. She put her sunglasses down, hoping it would help with the searing pain of early morning sunshine x-raying her brain as she drove. 

Another day, another note, this one waiting for her as she breathlessly set down all her belongings in prep for another day, a dull ache throbbing behind her eyes every time she blinked. 

_ December 2 _

_ Hi First Floor,  _

_ I finished Catcher in the Rye on my flight over. I don’t think I liked it. That kid had so much to complain about.  _

_ The sister though...that I could relate to. Did I ever tell you I have sisters? I can’t remember. If yes, sorry for telling ya again. If no, I have four: Alice, Becca, Suzanne, and Jill.  _

_ I saw it snowed a lot yesterday.  _

_ Stay warm, _

_ Second Floor _

_ \--- _

Bucky and Sam had finally finished setting up camp for the next few days in the middle of the Arabian desert having just desecrated the network of a Hydra cell camped out in Siberia.  _ Stop 2 _ , he thought.  _ 2 out of 3. I could be home for flower day. _

After learning that it had snowed in New York, Bucky was immensely jealous that everyone back home wasn’t wearing tactical gear in 100 degree heat in full sun, but as always, his mantra was to get it done so they could get back. Elsa accompanied them on this mission, as she would have to run J1NX. Sam and Bucky did not have enough experience to faithfully execute on the script every single time they needed to use it. 

Elsa was not used to fieldwork, and Bucky noticed she looked like she was melting under the sun after complaining about the cold the entire time they were in Siberia. She looked relieved when Sam called for them to set up camp. 

“So how far out are we?” Bucky asked. 

“We plopped down about 6 miles from our assumed target.” Elsa said, pulling the binoculars she’d been using to do some casual sweeping of the land around them. 

“That’s out of range for J1NX,” Bucky protested. 

“How many desert missions have you done, Barnes?” Sam asked him. 

“Not a ton.” 

“Right, so it’s a lot easier to get caught out here than it is in Siberia.” 

He nodded. That made sense. 

“So we’re waiting for nightfall.” 

“That’s the plan.” 

“Alright, well, do I have permission to grab a nap?” 

“Go ahead.” 

He unbuckled his tac jacket and rolled it up into a makeshift pillow, shutting his eyes, the brightness reflecting off the sand making it difficult to doze, but he got there eventually. He didn't dream. 

\--

On Thursday, it had snowed so much her school called for a 2 hour late start. 

_ Thank Christ _ , Millie thought as she skidded down the turnpike at 10 miles an hour. She had been packing up all of her stuff every morning in hopes that the police would finally call her and tell her that she was allowed to go back to her apartment, and every day when the final bell rang, she had to head back to Jersey. 

Today’s hellacious commute inspired her to try calling them. At first, the police officer she spoke to had no idea what she was talking about. Then they transferred her, then they transferred her again, and by the time they got her to the right person, Millie felt her normally very high tolerance for other people and their foibles crack. 

“This is Roth.” 

“Detective Roth? Hi...You’re...the 5th person I’ve talked to. I really need your help.” 

The line was silent.    
  
“Are you there?” 

“Yes, Ma’am.” 

“Right. So my home was broken into last Saturday. I was told due to the explosives on the roof that I needed to stay off the property until you notified me. Are there any updates?” 

Roth exhaled deeply in exasperation, and Millie really wanted to make a snarky remark about how terrible it was that he’d have to work as she read her address to him, the clack of his keyboard audible through the phone. 

“That case is now a federal matter.” 

“A...federal matter. Well, who can I talk to about it?” 

As she was toying with a paperclip on her desk while Roth searched for the agent who might be able to help, another letter arrived, the office assistant slipping to her with a sly smile. She scowled.  _ Every day this week.  _ She tapped the envelope back and forth while Roth had her on hold. Checking the clock, she only had 10 minutes before her next class was supposed to start. 

“Miss Miller?” Roth had returned. 

“Mmm?” 

“Sharon Carter is the name of the agent to call.” 

“Got it,” she said a little more shortly than she meant to.

She scrawled down her information on the back of the letter and hung up. Checking the clock again, she had 5 minutes. Her classroom was on the other side of the school from the office, so she stuck the envelope in her book and hoofed it. 

\---

The first cyber offensive measure in the UAE, and the second one overall, had been successful, albeit hairy at times, given this particular Hydra cell had a slightly stronger security infrastructure than expected. Given this mission was more about Elsa typing in commands instead of Sam and Bucky cracking skulls, Bucky was thankful that it was going relatively smoothly, as he wasn’t really sure what to do. Elsa assured him that his efforts were best spent ensuring the quiet stayed quiet, so he and Sam took turns patrolling the perimeter they set up. If they finished today, they could be out of here late Thursday, then he'd be back at home on Saturday. 

Bucky had forgotten how cold it was in the desert at night, and due to his previous occupation, he really fucking hated being in sustained cold. The stargazing, however, couldn’t be beat. He pointed out some constellations to Sam as they ate their field rations while Elsa pecked away at her keyboard. She exhaled sharply. This was the final command before they’d be done. 

“Alright. This is it.” 

“Should we call a cab?” Bucky asked perplexed, as he peered over Elsa’s shoulder, not understanding the combination of letters and numbers in front of him at all. 

“No. Not yet. This is going to take 10 hours to render, and that’s if we can maintain a strong enough connection.”

“And let me guess. There’s nothing we can do about it?”

Elsa rubbed her eyes and turned to him, her head shaking. 

“No, we just have to wait.”

\---

Millie may or may not have given her students the last 15 minutes of her class to catch up on their reading so she could read the latest installment of whatever Bucky was trying to pull. It was short, but her stomach dropped when she read it. 

_ December 2  _

_ Dear Millie,  _

_ I think we’re about halfway through. I might even be back by Friday. It’s pretty hard to stall in a letter, but what I’m getting at is I hope your dance card isn’t full. What do you say?  _

_ I won’t know until I can see you again.  _

_ \- Bucky  _

They were going to get a do-over. 


	17. Chapter 17

On Friday after she left work, Millie waited outside her building for an Agent Sharon Carter, whom she had spoken on the phone with earlier. Agent Carter was apologetic that no one had reached out to her, and agreed to meet her to go over what she was able to share with Millie as well as determine if it was safe for her to return home

Millie tried not to think of the wind rippling up her dress, spilling up under her coat as she checked the time again. Since Agent Carter couldn’t tell her anything over the phone, if she still had to drive back to Jersey after this little charade, she was going to be pissed. 

Sharon pulled up in a black Chevy, killing the lights and the engine after pulling up in front of the building. Millie noted how tall she was when she stepped out, her blond hair perfectly coiffed in a voluminous blowout that didn’t seem to move much, despite the cutting wind. Sharon took her aviator sunglasses off, now useless in the waning sun, and tucked them into the top of her shirt while walking towards Millie. Mille couldn’t help but think that she sort of looked like a caricature of a federal agent. Blond hair, blue eyes, she wore a light blue dress shirt and navy blazer with grey trousers and black shoes. She held her hand out to shake Millie’s. 

“Mildred Miller?” 

“Yep. You must be Sharon Carter. Or is it...Agent Carter? I don’t really know how this is supposed to work.” 

“Sharon is fine,” she gave her a toothy, all American smile, “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Likewise. Thank you for coming out here. I was about at the end of my rope with NYPD by the time they gave me your number.” 

Sharon understood immediately why Bucky liked her so much. Millie had an air of ease about her. Calm. And she was absolutely gorgeous. 

“I understand. We always seem to have trouble communicating with one another. So what can I help you with, Mildred?” 

“Please, call me Millie.” 

“Millie. Of course.” 

“Do I...have to explain the situation to you or do you know?” 

“No, I’m aware.”

“Good. I feel like I’ve told that story two dozen times to different people at this point,” she laughed nervously, “Really all I need to know is if it’s safe for me to return home. I’m a teacher and I’ve been commuting from my sister’s place in Jersey for the past week. It’s getting unbearable. Any update would be good.” 

“I don’t see why you couldn’t come back tonight, but let me do a cursory check before I promise you that. Deal?” 

“Sure. Better safe than sorry I suppose.” Mille shrugged. 

Sharon gave her a single nod, and turned back to the car to get a flashlight. Millie did not understand how she wasn’t freezing dressed just in a blazer, but waited while Sharon checked the property from roof to basement. When Sharon was satisfied that there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary waiting for Millie if cleared to go inside, she arrived back out front to give her the good news. With a caveat. 

“Given the potentially violent nature of the attempted attack, I’m going to request that an agent be stationed here for at least the next few days.”

“Understood. Can I ask you something, Sharon?” 

“Anything. Well, anything that isn’t classified.” 

“Sure. Why...me? Why this building? I know my neighbor works for Stark Industries, but I didn’t think that would mean...this.” Millie’s brows knit into a knot of concern. 

“Unfortunately, I can't share too many details about the nature of the attack or those who attempted it, but I can say that it is related to Mr. Barnes’ work. I think you may want to ask him about that yourself.” 

“Uh huh. I see. Well, thank you.” 

Sharon reached into her inner pocket and pulled out her business card, handing it to Millie. 

“If you ever need anything, please give me a call.” 

“Oh, no. Surely you have bigger fish to fry than me.” Millie laughed. 

“The health and safety of our civilians, especially those who teach, are of the utmost importance to us. Please, don’t hesitate.” 

Sharon smiled at her softly and opened the car door. 

“One more thing. Do you know him?” 

Millie made a gesture with her chin upwards towards the second floor, the plywood covering the picture window in front window like a bandage. 

“Barnes?” 

“Yeah.” 

“In passing.” 

“Is he...coming back?” 

“I don’t see why he wouldn’t.” 

“Mmmm. Thank you again, Sharon. I really appreciate it.” 

Sharon shut the door and started her car as Millie pulled her backpack out of her rental car. She couldn’t help but tease Barnes a little bit, despite the serious nature of the case, so she sent him a message. 

_ Just left your place. She asked about you.  _

_ Did you tell her? _

_ No, just said I figured you would be coming back. Speaking of which, did they pull you guys out of the desert yet?  _

_ Almost to the compound now. See you at the debrief?  _

\----

After ten hours of the three of them hovering over Elsa’s laptop as the final script ran, the command line finally spat back “Executed Successfully.” 

Bucky looked at the screen, puzzled yet again. 

“That’s it? We’re done?” 

Elsa held a hand up to him to shut him up. They weren’t quite done. Everything needed to rewrite itself. 

“Don’t. Not yet.” 

After about 20 minutes, Elsa’s arms shot up into the air in victory. 

“Woo! Ok, NOW we’re done. Pack it up.” 

“Well alright then,” Sam replied slightly stunned, “I’ll get us a ride.” 

\--- 

Millie thought being home was odd. It had only been less than a week, but everything in her apartment, left in such a rush, felt stale and weird. 

She was too tired to do anything meaningfully productive around the house, so dropped her backpack and tote, changed into her pajamas and made some tea. She could clean all day tomorrow, get her shit together, do her laundry, take the car back. But tonight, she just wanted to revel in the quiet of being home at last. 

Maybe I’ll order a pizza, she thought as she powered on the TV, flipping until she got to  _ The Witcher _ . She never did get to catch up the other night, and she pulled a soft cotton throw out of the wicker basket nearby, tucking the corners under herself to try and warm up faster. 

Before she knew it, it was 3am and the glow from the television woke her up. Groggily, she padded to her bedroom hoping to collapse in her own bed at last, but not before being convinced she heard someone upstairs. Her ears perked up when she heard someone settle into the mattress and decided it had to be Bucky. Mainly because she didn’t want to have to evacuate the building in her pajamas if  _ they _ were back. Plus, who would break in under the guise of espionage to sleep in someone else’s bed? That seemed like a waste of time. 

_ Well, welcome home, I guess.  _

\--

Bucky didn’t do well in long meetings. He was used to not really having to attend them. He’d be back in the fridge by the time the people who sent him to where he had gone were meeting about what happened. Elsa did most of the talking, while he and Sam shared there were no fatalities on either side. Anders was noticeably absent from the meeting, which seemed a little odd to Bucky, and he made eye contact with Sharon, who gave him a closed mouth grimace in return. They could talk later, her look said. 

“In conclusion, J1NX is very effective. I believe if I continue to iterate on it, not only will we jam up Hydra funding transfers, I believe we could also seize the assets. This, of course, will take more time,” Elsa finished proudly. 

She took a few questions from the attendees, but no one had really any quarrel with the work they’d done the past few days. None of them were hurt. It was a win-win. 

As everyone exited the conference room, Sharon motioned to Bucky to stay behind. 

“You were right.” 

“About?” 

“Johanssen being dirty.” 

“How did you find out?” 

“I have my ways. Tracked the guys who broke in, too. All the same cell. Picked ‘em up Thursday.”

Bucky’s face pinched into a scowl. 

“Where are they now?” 

“I’m not telling you that. They deserve their day in court like everyone else does.” 

Bucky, for the first time ever, reminisced about being above the law, if only for selfish reasons. Wouldn’t it be easier to drag them out to the woods and pull the trigger a few times? He had to remind himself that he was trying to have normal thoughts and feelings, and what he’d just dredged up was the darkest thought he’d had in months. That’s not me now, he commanded to himself. 

“Thanks for telling me--” 

Sharon cut him off. 

“There’s more. You should tell her the truth, because very likely, we will need her to testify if he doesn’t take a deal, and I don’t think you want the first time she finds out who you are to be in open court.” 

“That’s true.” 

“Look, honestly, friend to friend...this can be a hard life to have if you want to have relationships. Trust me, the only guy who was promising decided that time traveling to be with my aunt was a better option than being with me.” She smiled wryly. 

“Yeah. I know.” 

“She’s...really pretty though. Seems kind and...calm. Can't put my finger on why. So I get it.” 

“Yeah...I  _ know _ .” 

“Well, whatever happens, i hope you get what you want. You want to grab some dinner?” 

“Nah, I have to go see Dr. Cho. Mandatory post mission exam. I’ll see you later though.” 

He waved awkwardly before turning to head to the medical wing. 

\--

Bucky had to go back to the compound on Saturday, something about their reports not being filed correctly, and given the fast track that J1NX was on development wise, they really didn’t have a second to spare. 

But Sunday morning, Bucky waited out front for her. He had practiced his conversation in his head, and made some notes in his dark apartment. The guy who could replace the glass couldn’t come until Monday, and although it would have been easier and more comfortable for him to stay at the compound, he didn’t want to leave unless he had to. He had to look out for her. 

And at 9:31 on the dot, she opened the door, her purse and the basket in tow, faithful as ever to her routine, and her shoulders fell when she saw him. 

“Bucky.” She said stiffly.

“Hey doll. It’s flower day.”

She pursed her lips. She wanted to do her Sunday routine with him more than anything, but she was also incredibly upset.

“Yeah, it is. But...ah...I need you to tell me what the hell happened last week.”

_ This is it.  _ _ Enjoy your last moments before she decides to never speak to you again _ . 

“Millie, I haven’t...been honest with you.”

“That seems to be pretty obvious to me now, but go on.”

“Can we go inside?”

Millie unlocked the door and he followed her in. He took his coat off and held onto it lamely, even though he knew where the coat closet was. He felt like he didn't deserve to know any of the things he already knew about her and her habits. Like he had to play dumb. 

“Here give that to me,” she said irritated as she hung it up next to her school bag. “I’ll put some coffee on. Sorry about the mess,” she said tensely before disappearing into the kitchen. 

Bucky stepped out of the threshold, noticing a duffle bag that she’d been living out of since last week and it’s contents were strewn about the floor, flowers from two weeks ago rotting in their tepid water, the sound of dirty dishes clanking around in the sink. He still loved every moment of being in her space and prayed to a god he didn’t really believe in anymore that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d ever see her. 

Millie put two coffee mugs on the small dining table across from each other, and summoned him with her gaze. She pulled a chair out and sat, her hands folded in front of her, her face pinched in disappointment. 

Getting the hint he should sit as well, he sheepishly followed suit, scooting his chair to be under the table all the way, as if it would help protect him from the conversation he was about to have. 

“Where do you want me to start?”

She shrugged, then crossed her arms, her apathy cutting through him like a knife.  _ Goodbye forever, Millie.  _

“The beginning then. My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I was born March 10, 1917 to George and Winifred Barnes, I was drafted in 1942 with the 107th, rose to the rank of Sergeant…”

He told the whole thing. All of it. The Howling Commandos. The accident, Hydra, the assassinations, the shit in his brain, living in Wakanda, Steve, Sam, the stones, coming back, his new job with the Avengers, moving to Brooklyn...all of it. It was the most Millie had ever heard him speak at one time. She tried to maintain a stern facade, but really she just felt bad for him.  _ Christ, he’s been through the ringer.  _

“My latest mission has been to break up Hydra’s money transfer networks with Sam. Obviously this is suboptimal for them. We had a mole, who has since been apprehended. Hopefully, you’re not worried about them coming back, because they won’t be.” 

Millie stood up and went to the kitchen, coming back with scotch. She poured herself a decent dram into her coffee cup and took a long sip. She put the bottle on the table with a heavy clunk, the bottom of the bottle scratching over the wood as she slid it towards him. 

“That’s...a lot to process.”

_ I know baby, I know. It’s still me though. Head might not be on straight all the time, but it’s still me. _

“I shoulda told you sooner.”

“I mean, I kind of get it. It’s a lot to carry around,” she drank deeply again, wondering how many times it would be her swallowing down the downfall of her parents while he didn’t. “It explains the way you talk though.”

“What do you mean the way I talk?”

“‘Doll, sweetheart, icebox, shuteye,’” she imitated his silky Brooklyn accent, “I mean maybe I knew deep down?”

She was taking it better than he thought she would. He’d imagined something a lot more spirited, though he supposed he didn’t lead her on for 10 years before getting together with someone else.  _ Got ya there E. Schmidt _ he thought. Millie continued.

“I’m...still mad at you though.”

“Sweetheart, you can be mad at me all you want. Whatever you want. You’re the one in control here. Say the word and I”m gone. I know this kind of thing isn’t for everyone.”

“Well damn, Barnes. You’re not gonna fight for me?” She asked dryly. 

“Oh no. If I had it my way I’d carry you around in a knapsack, I’m just sayin’, if you’re not...ok with this I understand.”

“Now just a minute. Did I say anything to make you think I don’t care about you anymore? You’re trying to break up with me and we aren’t even together.”

“No. And no I’m not.”

“Ok. Good. Because I DO still care about you. A lot.”

She said this softly. Like a secret. Something she’d only said between herself and herself. Bucky swallowed hard.

“I hope you know that I don’t think I deserve you or your attention or, any of this, but I hoped you’d...I hoped you’d say that. And...I'm sorry. I'm sorry wasn't honest." 

She gave him a small smile. 

“I mean. I almost think…we need to start over. Like you’re still you, and I’m still me, but this is out in the open now. Tell me everything.”

“What do you want to know?” 

“I mean...all of it. You grew up in another time. You were friends with Captain America! You like...helped save the world, multiple times!”

Bucky was confused. He had just told her about the worst things he’d done as a person and had done to him and she wanted to know more. She didn't run or shut him out the way he imagined the worst case scenario of this conversation going. 

“God. Yeah. Rogers. Can I ask ya something, doll?” 

That would never stop making her tingle when he said it. 

“Sure.” 

“How did you...not know? Now I might be inflating my own ego here, but...you lived through some of it.” 

“I guess, well, we were so wrapped up in our own safety, not knowing what would come next, or if any of it would happen again that...I didn’t really have the wherewithal to watch news and keep up. I knew who Stark was. Everyone in New York was aware of him, but all that other stuff just….didn’t really seem relevant to me. I just wanted to keep my sister and keep trying to teach. It was hard. Convincing kids Shakespeare and Toni Morrison mattered when half their family disappeared one day.”

“Do you regret me telling you? Knowing now?” 

“No. I’m mad that you felt like you had to lie to me. Where does ‘Bucky’ come from?” 

“Buchanan. My mother’s maiden name. I don’t know, my dad started calling me that when I was little and it stuck.” 

She nodded. 

“Do you want me to call you James?” 

“No. It’s never felt right. Don’t you care about all the shit I’ve done? All the...well...murders? I have terrible dreams, too. Shuri said the one thing she couldn’t clean up was my subconscious.”

She exhaled. Did she really want to do this? He’s worth it, she thought. They could take it slow, though she was unsure it was possible to move any slower than they had been. 

“Bucky, you weren’t in control of yourself when that happened. Is it scary? A bit, but I think I know you. I have a stack of notes from you in my jewelry box that suggest that you’re just a big tenderhearted goof.” 

_ She kept the notes.  _

“You keep my notes?”    


“Of course I do. They’re sweet, and your penmanship is so beautiful.” 

Bucky blushed a bit. He remembered everyone keeping stacks of letters during the war, sometimes tucked away in a box, sometimes tied with a string and stowed in the middle of your pack to keep them from getting wet. He had kind of figured with the new ways people communicated with each other, she would have tossed everything. It warmed his heart to think she had a little pile of his musings tucked away in the apartment somewhere. 

“How come you didn’t...what’s the word...google me?” 

‘I don’t know. Didn’t seem like a good use of time. People deserve privacy. I know the woman who owns this building does an insane background check, so I figured since you’d made the cut, you were fine.” 

Millie shrugged.  _ Maybe I should have googled him.  _

“I guess I’m glad to be the one to tell you.” 

“Yeah, that’s lucky, I guess.” 

Millie pretended to pick at her cuticles, given that she wasn’t sure what to do next. What now? It was like they ran out of momentum, and before them was a rather steep hill. She put her hands on the table, as if she was going to spring into action at any moment, then folded them back into her lap.  _ She’s fidgeting. _ When he finally caught her gaze again, he stood up. 

“I should get going. Let you get to your business.” 

She didn’t say anything, but stood with the intent to get his coat, but thought better of it. He noticed her green eyes glowing a delicious golden emerald. Standing less than a half foot away from him, she reached up and grabbed his shirt collar, pulling his head down a tad to meet her eye to eye, and his hands landed on her shoulders. This was the closest he’d ever been to her face, and he noticed, for a split second, that she had a faint little scar above her right eyebrow. 

Bucky searched her face again, looking for motive, looking for...anything really, catching brief whiffs of her perfume, before she pulled him into her intoxicating aura and took his mouth. He straightened up and put his hands on the small of her back, a familiar feeling for her, though now she had to stand on her toes to not lose him. 

It was a subtle first kiss, and Millie was only able to focus on how soft his lips felt against hers, how long long she’d waited to feel this, being rewarded with its deliciousness at last. 

Bucky felt as if it was almost a question, the answer to which both of them were trying on at the moment. His metal hand ran his fingers through her hair, as she threw both arms around his neck.  _ So this is what I've been missing. _

She pulled away first, and smiled, brushing some of his hair away from his face and slid her hands down his arms until she held both of his hands, swaying them back and forth almost playfully. 

“Now that we got that out of the way, I’m going to get my flowers. Are you coming?” 

Bucky was stunned for a moment. She was never one to mince words it seemed, even after planting one on an centenarian who hadn’t been touched affectionately in over 70 years. 

“Er. Yeah. I guess I am.” 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all had a great holiday if you celebrated. Thanks for reading.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. 
> 
> I got a little carried away. 😁

Bucky found that once Millie started kissing him, he had a really hard time living without. It was constant, his want to feel her lips on his, to put his fingers tenderly in her hair, on the back of her neck, to feel her gasp with nowhere for it to go when he would deepen the kiss. Years had passed since Romania, since Wakanda, since the snap, but he still felt like he was rebelling when he used his touch for good. For running his knuckles over her cheek, for tucking his index finger under her chin to get her attention and to drink in her green eyes. 

And it had only been a few weeks since the kiss, and the subsequent kisses. He walked to meet her at school, the last day before winter break and Christmas. She carefully tottered down the rock salted stairs in those damn impractical cowboy boots, her school bag, purse, and a tin of cookies balanced haphazardly amongst a thicket of scarf, coat, gloves. She planted a kiss on his cheek in greeting before he held his metal arm out to take her heavy tote bag stuffed with her laptop and what felt like a half dozen bricks. 

Lately, Millie had lots of questions about everything, and she never seemed to run out of them, from the big topics like autonomy to the mundane, like what color his childhood bedroom had been painted. 

“Blue. It was blue.” 

“I see your tastes have evolved, then,” she joked. 

“I always liked blue. Still do.” 

“Is it because everyone on earth tells you how good you look in it because it matches your eyes?” 

“That might have something to do with it.” 

“I think it’s sweet that you’ve had the same favorite color for 100 years. And you do look good in blue.” 

“What’s yours?” he asked, his thumb circling her palm as he walked her home from work, her heavy tote bag balanced on his metal arm. 

“Pink. Probably. I don’t know. Maybe I don’t have one.” 

The tote slid down his arm and he pulled away from her hand to adjust it. She’d decided after he told her everything to just...let him do the chivalrous stuff he wanted to do for her. These weren’t grand gestures, just simple tasks he thought would make her day easier. The quiet signals to her that he was listening and he cared. After a decade of being no more than a glorified floor lamp to Erick, she relished the attention. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

He exhaled loudly and laughed. You’re lucky you’re cute. 

“Do you have a list?” 

“No, it’s not one of those questions.” 

“Alright then, shoot.” 

“Why did you start coming to walk me home every day?” 

“It’s not every day.” 

“It’s ALMOST every day.” 

“Because I’d rather talk to you like this than through text, as much as I love getting the same skull emoji every Monday.” 

She grinned at him, adjusting the cookies on her hip for the final stretch of their walk to give him a playful shove. The piled snow carved out a little maze down their street, and they both walker slowly to avoid ice. 

She waited when they arrived for Bucky to open the gate, because she knew he wanted to. He corralled her up the front steps and paused in the foyer, then turned to go up the stairs to his place, where the landlady had finally replaced the picture window, restoring the light that had been absent back to its former glory. 

“So it’s Friday.” she said, following him up half the steps before she spoke. 

“So it is,” he said over his shoulder. 

“It’s the Friday before Christmas.” 

She wiggled her eyebrows up and down. 

“Do you want to go out? Or do you want to help me eat these cookies from Jessica Petrusi?” 

A legitimate dilemma. He’d love to see her wrapped in one of her dresses, bright lipstick, her coat draped over her shoulders rendering her absolutely useless so he’d have to do everything for her, but he could go for staying in, too. They’d been watching a slew of movies Bucky actually remembered the plot to the past few nights, snuggled under one of the numerous blankets she kept near the sofa, a bowl of popcorn balanced on her knee between them. 

“I want to spend time with you, sweetheart. What do you want to do?” 

“I want to be greedy, and say we do both. Early dinner, then home to watch The Philadelphia Story and we...see how it goes? Dinner’s my treat?” 

Millie and Bucky had not slept together. It hung between them like another unanswered question. She loved kissing him, and loved how much he loved kissing her, but lately she’d noticed an urgency. He was struggling against her clothes (and his own, for that matter), pushing at the bottom of her sweaters then stopping himself, putting his hands down the back of her skirt to feel her backside, then abruptly pulling them back out. It was time. He could discern her true meaning. We’ll see how it goes, and his stomach flipped. 

“Alright, M. Miller. I’ll let you buy me dinner this one time, and you’re lucky I’ve already seen The Philadelphia Story. Why don’t you go get ready?” 

\--

Millie pulled on a pair of tights after shimmying out of her jeans. She cut the tag off a sumptuous navy blue velvet wrap dress she’d purchased last week, the neck and sleeves embroidered with beautiful, subtle navy roses. She had never before bought a piece of clothing so tailored to a man and his preferences before, but she stopped abruptly after seeing it in the window of a boutique she occasionally walked by on her way home from the grocery store. 

_I have to get that_. She hiked her canvas bag of produce high on her shoulder as she walked in, asking about the dress in the window. The saleswoman commented, saying they had just two left, a 00 and one that would be too large for her. She bought the larger one, and made a desperate phone call to Liz, asking her to come to her place with her sewing machine. 

A few hours later Liz had her reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose as she pulled pins out of her mouth to fit the dress to hug Millie’s waist. She gently pushed Millie’s arms up into a straight so she could make sure everything draped correctly. 

“You’re going to have some extra fullness in the skirt you may not want. Is that ok?” 

“That’s fine.” 

“This is really pretty by the way, Mil.”

“Thank you.” 

“What’s the rush?” she teased, “You sounded like you were making your dying wish on the phone.” 

“I want to wear it to a Christmas party,” she lied. 

“Uh huh. What shoes?” Liz knew when she was lying but left it alone. 

“I was thinking those ones I have with the strap that wraps around the ankle?” 

“Those will work. Now take this off so I can stitch it up.” 

\---

Bucky loved gingham, but only if it was black or grey. As he buttoned his shirt, he remembered her ribbing on him for his limited color and pattern pallet. Picnic goth, Millie called it, which he didn’t totally understand, but laughed anyway. He laced up his black wingtip oxfords that looked remarkably like a pair he had in 1938 and put on his coat. 

“Am I late?” he called down the stairs as he locked up. 

“Not at all!” 

He took the stairs two at a time, and When he made it around the bend, she smiled warmly at him, her coat draped over her shoulders. Her dress looked as if it was made for her, clinging to her form in all the right places, and above all, she was relaxed. No tension in her shoulders, no look of concern or fear. That was what he valued most. He pulled her into his arms and greeted her with a proper kiss. 

“So where are you taking me, M. Miller?” 

“Well, I was wondering. Do you like oysters?” 

“There’s people on earth who don’t?” 

“I was hoping you’d say that.” 

\---

Whatever witchcraft her sister had spun into tailoring her dress had worked, and he was transfixed, his hand on her lower back to guide her along, even though she was the only one who knew the way to the restaurant she’d picked. 

Oysters were as good as he remembered them being, although he didn’t remember them being quite so expensive. Millie insisted on crab and scallops too. What is it about shellfish? Turns everyone wild when they eat them, he thought, pulling the meat out of another crab leg with his fingers and popping it into his mouth. They ate in a comfortable silence, looking up to only sip wine and smile knowingly. Bucky would have, as a younger man, thought the lack of talking would be a bellwether for how their relationship was going, but with Millie, it felt like safety. They could exist together quietly sometimes, and he liked that. And of course, when the bill came, she insisted on paying, which he humored, just as he promised, his head balanced in his hands cheekily as she handed the waiter her credit card, 

When they returned home, Millie excused herself to her apartment to grab the cookies. She leaned against the door and exhaled before making way to the kitchen to grab the red tin Jessica had set on her desk before leaving her classroom. She checked her face and teeth in the mirror one more time before climbing up the stairs to Bucky’s apartment. His bed was more comfortable, after all. 

\--

It’s gotta be like riding a bike, he thought, how could someone forget? He flipped on the bathroom light to brush his teeth quickly, and attempted to make his hair look somewhat evenly placed on his head. He’d contemplated cutting it, but Millie seemed to like it. 

A soft knock rapped at his door, and he opened it to her. She was already eating one of the cookies. 

“These are surprisingly good,” she said, holding the tin towards him. 

He couldn’t help but laugh, the silliness putting him at ease as he opened the door to her. She ate the last wing of an Angel and set the rest on the kitchen counter. She stepped out of her shoes, shrinking a good 4 inches as she did, and tucked them neatly next to his oxfords. She followed him to the sofa, folding her legs underneath her skirt and draping it over them. Bucky searched for the movie they wanted and began it, the old Hollywood title cards and overture rolling. 

“So I’ve never seen this one.”

“It’s a good one. It’s one of my favorites, though if anyone asks, it’s not.”

“A little too sentimental?”

“Something like that,” he scooted closer to her after shutting the light off, leaning back to get comfortable. He loved watching her watch movies, as the poor girl didn’t have much of a poker face when she was wrapped up in a story. He’d not been caught though, scanning her face through Nanotchka and The Thin Man, her brows knitting and small smiles painting her face. 

Roughly halfway through the movie, she stretched out and put her head in Bucky’s lap, sighing contentedly when he brushed her hair behind her ear, wondering if she could feel his stomach doing somersaults at the very closeness of her, moving his hand to brush the soft velvet of her dress. 

As the credits rolled, Bucky turned on the light, and Millie sat up, rubbing her eyes. 

“You want something to drink?”

“How about water?”

He nodded and returned with her request, handing it to her gently, the glass making a small tink as he handed it to her. She raised it and smiled, swallowing it down and then twisted her hair in hair into a top knot. She cleared her throat before speaking, Bucky gazing down at her, waiting for her to say something. 

“Bucky,” she said softly looking up into his silvery eyes, “It’s time.”

He nodded bending down and scooping her up into his arms, knees almost buckling at the softness of her as his fingers sunk into her thighs. She made a soft, feminine noise before speaking again. 

“I didn’t think you were going to do that.” 

“Of course I was gonna do that, baby.” 

“Baby, huh. Are we adding that to the oeuvre?” 

“Hush,” he whispered, kissing the tip of her nose and walking carefully to his bedroom where he kicked the door open carefully and deposited her on his bed. 

The street light outside reflected up off the snow, bathing the room in buttery yellow, and the wispy hairs that hadn’t made it up when she pulled it up framed her face like a halo in the light as she looked up to him again. God, I would do anything for you, he thought as he kneeled in front of her. They were poised as predator and prey, each playing the role, her back a straight line perpendicular to the mattress with a heart beating out of control. 

“Kiss me,” she whispered. He complied, scooting her to the edge of his bed, occupying the space between her legs with his imposing body as he ran a hand down her neck, tracing her collar bone underneath her dress. She sighed and reached out to pull him further into her space, finally combing her fingers into his hair and he groaned softly. 

When she pulled away, she rose to her knees and began to fiddle with the tie of her dress, which she had in a simple knot so as to keep it from blowing open on her walk home. It refused to budge, her shoulders shaking with subtle laughter until she let herself fall into the soft duvet and pile of pillowsin a peal of giggles. Bucky was first embarrassed, then crawled to her and pulled her to him. 

“Do you need some help?”

“Oh yes, all the help I can get apparently,” she said as she wiped a single wayward tear. 

His hands slid over her belly from the left and he made quick work of the knot, the only thing between him and the next layer was a tiny hook and eye closure Liz had added as a safety. Millie moved to undo it but found Bucky beat her to it, almost snapping his fingers to open it, the heavy fabric falling away immediately and she almost shimmied to get it to fall from her shoulders, revealing some frothy lace around her mint green bra. He reached up and pulled her hair tie down to free her waves. Women’s undergarments had come a long way he thought, her ample breasts nearly spilling over the top. Millie moved her dress to the floor and rolled her tights down, kicking them off, and his eyes traced over the form of her. Her skin like a pitcher of cream, her soft hair perfectly unkempt, doe eyes burning emerald, her legs crossed daintily at the ankle. 

“God, baby, you’re so...so beautiful,” he breathed, sliding next to her and pushing a thick tendril of hair behind her ear. She flushed at his compliment, and reached up to outline his fine cut jawline with her thumb. 

“Bucky?” She asked, in a husky voice. 

“Sorry, I’m just enjoying the view. C’mere, pretty girl.”

He hesitated only for a second before wrapping his arms around her, his hands enjoying the soft give of her as Millie’s heart kicked hard against her ribs. It dawned on her now just how long it had been. At least two years by her quick calculation. And in a relationship the whole time. She sighed as she slid into Bucky's lap at his urging. 

“What are you thinking about, Millie?” He asked genuinely, sliding one of her legs on each side of him, and she could feel him through the thin satin of her panties. 

“I--it’s nothing.” 

“You can tell me anything,” he whispered as he ran his hands down her smooth legs. He had to make sure she was still on board with this. 

“It’s. How do I say this? It’s been a long time.” 

He grinned and gave her a soft peck, “I can assure you, sweetheart, it’s been longer for me.” 

“Ha, fair.” 

“Now will you shut up and kiss me?” 

She threw her arms around his neck and took his mouth, as ordered. This kiss was different. This was needy. Hurried, and almost desperate, his teeth giving her lower lip a gentle tug as he searched for the clasp of her bra. Millie pulled away for a moment grinning at him and not breaking eye contact as she undid the front of her minty ensemble with a simple twist of her fingers, letting Bucky slip it over her shoulders and toss it somewhere. He groaned again, her rosy nipples standing at attention as soon as the chilly air hit them. They were perfect. Everything was perfect about her. Millie was speaking to him, but he was lost in his head. Look alive, Barnes. 

“Hey, handsome, come back to me. You’re wearing far too many clothes for this,” she repeated, rubbing her hands over his hard chest, reaching up to unbutton his shirt. Millie didn’t take him as the type to wear an undershirt, and she reached for the hem when Bucky gently grasped her wrist. 

“I...I have scarring. From all of it.” 

Empathy and a touch of anger flashed in her eyes and she nodded until he released her. She slid his shirt up and tried not to flinch when she saw the extensive knot of scars on his shoulder where his metal arm connected to the flesh part of him. Forgetting herself, she ran her fingertips as soft as a feather over them and he inhaled sharply, not expecting a kind, loving response to his true form, her eyes drinking in the rest of him too, which was impossibly fit. Am I dreaming? He’s fake, right? I’m gonna wake up and be sleeping on the couch while Erick is off fucking someone else. Any moment now. 

She chewed her bottom lip before pulling him down to her as she leaned back into the mattress making her way to roll down her panties. 

“Leave those for me,” he whispered into her ear. He then peppered her neck, shoulders, collar bone, breasts, sternum, and hips with kisses, pausing to look up at her burning eyes and knitting brows. “I’ve been dreaming about this since the moment I saw you bringing your flowers inside all those months ago,” he kissed her cunt over her ruined undergarments, “and I plan to take my time with you. I want to be good. For you, so...tell me what you like.” 

He resumed his quest as he pulled her knees up to balance on his shoulders and pulled her thighs toward him, causing her to arch her back a bit as he hooked his thumbs into the legs of her underwear and pulled them down. A vision, a sultry, unwrapped vision. 

“God, sweetheart, I could just eat you up with a spoon,” he kissed the soft flesh of her inner thigh and she shuddered, “you’re awful quiet.”

“I...don’t believe this is actually happen—-ah!”

She let out an absolutely guttural moan as Bucky’s mouth connected to her core. 

“You ought to warn a girl before you do that,” she said breathlessly. Bucky hummed a dissenting noise into her, continuing his exploration of her. 

“Lay back,” he said, looking up at her, mischief and longing in his eyes. 

She obliged, as he continued lapping at her core, Millie could tell he was trying to learn her, to catalog her responses to what he was doing, but she couldn’t focus on why. Let go, his actions said to her, I’ve got you. She jolted a bit moments later. Eureka. 

“Here?” He touched the same spot. “Right here?”

She nodded. He doubled down. When she attempted to move, her thighs quivering, he splayed his metal hand lightly on her belly to still her, and curled a finger inside her. Not on your life, doll. 

“Bucky, I’m—oh my god!”

He pulled away for just a moment and smiled up at her.

“I know. Let go for me,” he pressed his thumb directly to her clit, dealing the final blow to her composure as she came hard. She had never felt this way before, this level of sheer ecstasy. It was as if she’d been thrown off the Brooklyn Bridge directly into the East River. And then he didn’t let up, he guided her through her orgasm until, sides heaving she tenderly pulled him up to her, searching his face, awestruck. 

“How...where…” she couldn’t form sentences. 

“Everyone did it. No one talked about it,” he shrugged, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. 

She nodded dumbly, before mustering the strength from her boneless body to kiss him, tasting herself and the faintest bit of toothpaste. 

“Ok...just...Christ...give me a minute, then I’m returning the favor.”

“Baby, this will be a very short night if I let you do that,” he ran a thumb across her bottom lip, knowing he’d last mere minutes with her pillowy soft mouth wrapped around him, “next time,” he offered. 

“Next time,” she repeated, wiping sweat from her brow, “you’re still wearing too many clothes though.” 

“Now you’re asking for it, sweetheart,” he rolled to sitting, then stood, his pants, belt still attached, hitting the floor with a loud metallic clang.

“You don’t want to wake the neighbors.” 

“I think she’s already awake,” he deadpanned, before slipping out of his underwear and adding them to the pile next to the bed. Millie was not ready to comprehend how big he was, letting out an audible gasp as he elegantly, for a man of his stature, snaked back toward her and resumed kissing her before sliding his hand to his nightstand drawer, looking for a condom he was sure he had. 

“Ah shit,” he sat up and looked in earnest. 

“I have an IUD and...uh haven’t been with anyone but Erick in the past decade.”

“IUD?” He cocked his head curiously.

“It’s like…long term birth control. I can’t...get pregnant with it.”

“Huh. What will they think of next?” he sucked his teeth. Bringing her back to him, he whispered to her “you still want to do this?” 

“I swear to god, if you don’t stop toying with me, I’ll—“

Almost effortlessly, he lifted her by the hips into his lap, and she lifted herself to line up to fit him. Slick with arousal, she slid onto his cock slowly, and it took whatever self control he had left to push up into her. 

“Christ, baby. You’re gonna kill me.” He threw his head back wildly, 

“Oh no you don’t,” she brought his head to hers, “You’re gonna look in my eyes while you fuck me.” 

“Jesus, the mouth on you,” he laughed. 

“I think you like it.” 

She’d gone slow on purpose, in an effort to give him back some of the agonizing ecstasy he’d given her just moments ago, finally taking all of him. She paused for a moment to get used to him, before he reached up and took a handful of her ample ass, trying to set a pace that could make both of them happy, but Millie declined, continuing with the slow, tortuous pace, grinning wolfishly the entire time. 

“God,” he started. 

“No, Millie.” 

“Is that what you want? You want me to say your name, doll?” 

“Yeah, it is.” 

“Well, Millie, you have the sweetest ass I’ve ever seen, and this,” he reached in between her folds and pressed his thumb softly to her clit, drawing a gasp from her, “ain’t too bad either.” 

Her legs quivered with the contact, still reeling from the first time she came. He took the opportunity to flip her onto her back. 

“You’re a naughty thing, aren’t you, sweet girl. Teasing me like that.” 

“I’m gonna plead the fifth on that.” 

Picking up the pace, taking himself all the way out before plunging back in, had certainly shut her up, he thought, or at least reduced her to only speaking in clipped cuss words and the girlish growl of his name every so often. He was close, losing control, his thrusts getting progressively sloppier as he kept going. 

“Honey, this is heaven. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” 

“Buck--Oh fuck. I’m--”

He felt her tighten around him, clamping down hard. He couldn’t pull out even if he wanted to. 

“Me...too--” he grunted. 

He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve her, to have her falling apart underneath him, her presence a balm for a long-lived soul, but he thanked whatever force of nature drove him to her. It couldn’t be chance, he insisted to himself as he worked through the final come down from just moments ago. She ran her hands softly up his back, almost to comfort him, to hold him close. I’m here, her actions said. I’m here. 

He finally moved to stand, kissing her forehead then switching on the hall light, much to Millie’s chagrin. He returned with a damp washrag and gently, trying not to touch her too harshly, cleaned her sticky thighs before leaving again and coming back with water. 

“Here,” he handed her a glass. 

“Will ya come back to bed now?” 

“You want me to come back?” 

“Of course I do. It’s late.” 

“I gotta make sure you’re ok.” 

“I’m more than fine, beebs.” 

“Beebs. What is that?” 

“I guess it’s a dumb, shorter version of babe that feels less...cringey?” 

“I don't know about that.” 

“You’re one to talk,” she said slyly before taking another sip, “now get back here.” 

He complied, pulling back the covers and helping her under them before climbing in himself. 

“It’s cold, gotta bundle you up,” he said as he tucked the duvet under her right side, “Can I hold you?” he asked sheepishly. 

“Of course.” 

He kissed her shoulder, and pulled her close. If this was all he’d get, if the world ended, it would be ok. He wanted more, of course, but he’d satisfied her. He’d claimed her. That’s all he needed. 

“Get some sleep, sweetheart.”


	19. Chapter 19

**SIX MONTHS LATER**

June was hot this year, the spring weather having barely made an impression on anyone before turning up the heat, and Millie’s students were restless. With just a few more days of school left, there was very little she could do to contain their restlessness and ennui for Literature. She capitulated on the last day of school and made it a movie day. She picked the 1948 version of  _ Hamlet _ with Laurence Olivier, having just watched it with Bucky a few weeks before. 

When the final bell rang for her last class on the last day, she waved goodbye to her students and bid them a fun, relaxing summer, quipping that she had to tell them to read books, but would be fine if they spent it all at the beach instead. And just like that, another school year over. The past few months were wildly different compared to the previous decade. She didn’t want to tempt spoiling it by speaking about it out loud, but she was pretty sure she was happy. 

She picked up her bag and twisted her hair into a low bun for the walk home. She wasn’t sure if Bucky would be waiting for her, they hadn’t talked about it that morning. He’d had something else in mind upon waking up, the corner of her mouth twisting into a small smile. As she got ready to leave, the head of the department, a short, older fellow named Paul Shulte entered her line of vision. 

“Millie. Just who I was hoping to see.”

“Hi Paul, happy last day.” 

“Likewise. Any plans for the summer?” 

“Nope. I might try to pick up a few tutoring jobs, but nothing otherwise.” 

“Would you be interested in leading our summer theater program? We’ve had some last minute staffing changes we’ve overlooked.” 

“Oh that’s right. Michelle is on maternity leave now.” Millie chewed her lip. She and Bucky had talked about a vacation. A real vacation. He wanted to take her somewhere, insisting she deserved it after she told him she hadn’t left the state in quite some time. 

Paul looked at her expectantly, knowing she hadn’t finished answering him. The thing about Paul was when he asked for a favor, he wasn’t really asking, and Millie knew she would earn some extra money and more influence within the department if she agreed to do it. 

“Let me talk to my...boyfriend,” she said lamely, “We’ve been planning a trip, but we haven’t picked the dates yet.” 

“Right. Well. My hope is you’ll say yes. Your cast of  _ The Crucible _ is really hoping you’ll do it. They’ve talked of nothing else for weeks. You’re very highly recommended.” 

“Oh that’s too funny. Ok, just let me talk to him. I’ll get back to you in the next few days.” 

“Wonderful. Thank you.” 

Paul spun and left the department office and Millie gave him a moment to get far enough ahead that she wouldn’t be walking him out of the building to have more awkward conversation. Even if she agreed to do the drama program, she’d cut significantly into her time off that just so happened to converge with Bucky’s mandatory vacation. She gathered her bag and slid her sunglasses behind her ears, hoping that a handsome old soldier would be waiting for her outside. 

\---

This was his favorite part of the day, when she’d come down the steps and grin at him all moon-eyed like she was seeing him again for the first time, whispering “hey” in their foyer. They hadn’t been apart much since the Friday before Christmas, taking turns sleeping in each other’s apartments. It wasn’t the most traditional of arrangements, but for now, it worked. Now that they were together, there was no need to rush anything. “I love you” came quickly. Quicker than Bucky could have anticipated, when he blurted it out when they were stuck under an awning in the rain. 

Waking up next to her was his second favorite part of the day, her bangs standing straight up most mornings, and he’d peel stray dirty blond hairs stuck in the plates of his metal arm after the bright morning light waking him gently. He had no idea how it was comfortable for her to sleep enveloped in his grasp, but he wasn’t going to question it, her soft body grounding him at night, when the weight of his old soul bore down on him like a cage. 

He fondly remembered her baking him a birthday cake a few months ago, and she kindly invited Sam and Sharon to come over for a small celebration. She hung up streamers and blew up balloons before she went downstairs to finish the cake. He heard a series of cuss words after a loud clatter. His phone rang moments later. 

_ “Bucky, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but we’re having a semi-circle cake for your birthday.”  _

_ “What do you mean?” he asked, sticking an envelope in the book he was reading.  _

_ “Wellllll, I dropped the top layer of your cake, and birthday cake is only good if there’s a layer of frosting in between, so I’m going to cut the one that survived in half and stack it. I guess...everyone will just have to have a very small piece. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”  _

_ “I don’t know, M. Miller, this is a very serious offense.”  _

_ “Shit, I know.”  _

_ “I’m kidding. Honey, this is the first time I’ve celebrated my birthday in years. The bar is on the floor.”  _

_ “Good to know. I’m coming upstairs now.”  _

That night the four of them laughed together, Sam telling stories of the games they invented on missions. They sang happy birthday and ate the semi-circle cake after Bucky blew out the candles. When Sam and Sharon left, Millie tried to wash the dishes in his sink, but he reached around her and shut the water off. With hands that knew what to do after a few months of practice, he carried her bed and made love to her soft and slow, the way he liked. She cradled him afterward, stroking the hair at the back of his neck. 

And today, this hot, stifling day in mid-June, he had a surprise for her. He and Sam were placed on leave for a few weeks while Elsa perfected the latest iteration of J1NX. Not expected back at work for the field until the first of August, and he wanted to take Millie somewhere. They had talked about maybe going upstate or to Vermont for a short vacation, but he wanted to actually leave the eastern seaboard. 

“Like, I don’t know...the Hamptons?” she asked that morning when they talked about it again.   
“No, I think both of us would hate that.” 

“Fair. What did you have in mind?”

He wanted to take her to Hawaii. He’d traveled all over the world as the Winter Soldier and lived simply in Wakanda, but Bucky Barnes had never been to Hawaii, and he felt like the only person he’d ever want to go with was steps away from him. She handed him her totebag as they set forth for the short walk home. 

“Paul asked me to run the theater program this summer.” 

“Oh? That’s great. Are you going to do it?” 

“I don’t know. It’s always nice to make extra money. I think the co-chair position might be available in the next year or so, too, so that would be good.” 

“Hey, well that would be great!” 

“There’s one problem. I’d have to start next week. And it would go through July. I know we talked about going away and all…” she trailed off. 

Bucky’s heart sank. Maybe Hawaii would have to wait. 

“Ah, no, this is too important for you. We can go away later.” he gave her a reassuring smile. 

“I don’t even know if I want to do it yet.” 

“I think you should.” 

She chewed her lip in contemplation.

“I have to think about it.” 

“Well, let’s say you do want to do it. Why don’t we try to get away for the weekend?” 

“That might work. We can look online when we get home.” 

_ Maybe we can go to Hawaii for Christmas. That would be nice. A Christmas on the beach.  _

\--

“It just doesn’t seem like it’s going to work,” she sighed, “I’m sorry, Bucky, I really wanted us to be able to get out of town.” Millie shook her head subtly as she scrolled through every single type of accommodation in both Vermont and upstate New York, none of which were available. 

Bucky was, understandably, reticent to go camping.  _ How was that a vacation to a guy who had to do it for work on a pretty regular basis? _ But the music she’d turned on coupled with the warm summer breeze making her sheer curtains billow into the living room, she thought maybe being stuck in Brooklyn all summer again couldn’t be that bad. 

“There’s always next time. C’mere.” 

Millie shut her laptop and slid over to him, her thigh flush to his on the couch. 

“Nope, closer,” he pulled her into his lap, “We should still do something this weekend.”

“Yeah? What did you have in mind?” she softly raked her fingertips over his hair, pushing it out of his eyes.

“We could go to the beach. Do some fun summer stuff.”

_ Ain’t nothing like summer in New York.  _

“Yeah, ok. We can do that. I haven’t been to the beach in years. Probably since I moved to the city.”

“It’s a date then,” he shifted her in his lap, pressing his forehead to hers, “you hungry, baby?” 

Knowing that he only trotted out “baby” when he meant business, serious business, he looked up into his blue eyes before replying. 

“I mean, I am, but I don’t think you’re gonna let me off of you to eat any time soon.” 

He chuckled, pushing his hands up her skirt, relishing her incredibly smooth and soft thighs under him as he scooped her just a tiny bit closer to him. He still sometimes couldn’t believe that he had moments like this. Vignettes of tender touch, of losing himself in her, getting to observe and learn her. The thing he appreciated the most, other than being the one who got to playfully goose her on the backside as she walked out the door every day, was that she treated him as his own person. He wasn’t what he did, or what he had done, or a made of glass, ready to shatter at any second. When they were together, they were just Millie and Bucky, two people who were lucky they found each other. 

“Dinner after,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose as he was wont to do, “I promise.” 

\---

Since the reversal, and the absolute destruction of the Avengers compound upstate, Bucky had been splitting his time between the few floors they had in Avengers tower and the smaller, temporary headquarters a few miles west of where the old facility had been. 

At noon, he, Sam and Sharon took a break from their very long war room planning session. Elsa had given them a very thick manual of documentation on the latest iteration of J1NX, which she handed to them gleefully. While Elsa’s title was technically “IT Analyst,” she was a brilliant programmer. Stark, The Avengers, or whomever he was working for these days seemed to understand that you couldn’t just go in, guns blazing anymore. People like Elsa were the future of espionage. 

He bit into his sandwich, checking his phone. Millie was off all week before she had to be back at school for camp, and he could always get a sense of what she got up to by what she posted on Instagram. She told him this Monday morning that she was going to get brunch with Michelle, the woman who usually ran the drama camp, to talk about the program and learn a little bit more about what she could expect if she wanted to do it. 

She had posted a photo of herself holding who he assumed was Michelle’s newborn. He spied Millie’s very large bamboo shaped acetate sunglasses on the baby, the caption saying “who wore it better?” He chuckled and hit the heart button. He’d never thought about that. Kids. A baby. He’d had so many sisters growing up that he felt like the third parent, trying to help his poor mother get all of them out the door during the school year and making sure they stayed out of trouble once they left. Did he want to do that? What did she think about it? It hadn’t really come up, he agreed with himself as he chewed contemplatively.  _ No, never talked about it. _

As they wrapped up lunch and reconvened back into the conference room they’d booked for the entire day, they began to discuss dates and locations. The HYDRA cell they were looking into, one that had been participating in arms dealings with other nefarious terrorists and running their payment apparatus through an old branch was just outside of Dresden, in Germany. 

“What’s left?” Sharon asked, looking at the pile of documents they’d accumulated during their planning session. 

“Timeline, date, rest of the team,” said Sam, arms crossed in front of him, leaning on the conference table as his eyes scanned the map before him. 

“We need a pilot and a medic,” Bucky added, reminding them all of the new policy to bring medics along for fieldwork, especially if it involved more than information gathering. The Avengers were good, but they weren’t that good, and since the...encounter with Thanos, it became standard to travel with at least one medic. 

“I think Dr. Heeler is a good choice for a medic, and how about Henderson for your pilot?” 

Sam and Bucky exchanged looks. 

“Done.” 

As they went on to talk more about when and where they would be touching down in Germany, his mind drifted, thinking back to the photo of Millie holding a baby. He’d seen her interact with her students, but they weren’t tiny and fragile. Most of them had attitudes and cell phones, and she handled them with grace and understanding.  _ Stick a pin in that _ , he thought, as Sharon and Sam argued about whether or not leaving for a mission on July 4 was acceptable or not. 

\---

Millie stopped to get some ingredients for dinner on her way home from brunch with Michelle. Her baby, Hazel, was just as cute as a button, and it was great to learn more about the drama program, she agreed with herself as she scanned through the selection of poultry, and fish in the meat department. 

But of course, as their time together went on and coffee cups dwindled, Michelle asked about Bucky.

“Is it the cute guy who is always waiting outside right before the last bell? That’s him?” 

Millie smirked, nodding. 

“Yeah, that’s him.”    
  
“Lord, where did you find him?” Michelle picked up Hazel, her little fists going in every direction as she fussed a bit before calming when she felt her mother’s touch. 

“He’s...my neighbor. He lives above me.”

“Well that is adorable.”

“Yeah I don’t think we’ve done anything in a quote unquote normal way. But I like him fine.”

“Do you think he’s the one?”

Millie hated this question. She thought yes, but maybe didn’t think she was the greatest judge of who her soulmate was, given her track record for the past decade. 

“Could be. I don’t know.”

“Well, sure. But you’re how old? 32? Don’t you want a baby?”

Millie laughed uncomfortably, “33 on September first.”

“My advice to you is to lock him down.”

“Right. Of course.”

Their server dropped the check seconds later, and Millie felt relief wash over her like cool summer rain. 

“My treat, Michelle. Thanks for your time.”

And as she walked away with her groceries, a wound she hadn’t inspected in a while resurfaced and she felt heat rising in her cheeks. It was totally torn open when she turned the corner to run almost head on into Erick, who had a brand new baby tucked into a baby bjorn strapped across his front. Her jaw dropped, then after gaining her composure, she opted to just run into it head on. 

“Hi,” she said coolly. 

“Millie,” Erick nodded, “Sorry for almost running you over.” 

“N-no problem. Who do we have here?” 

“This is Remy!” 

“Mmmm. Good to meet you, Remy.” She waved awkwardly. Erick could clearly sense that she was doing some math in her head. 

“It’s...well it’s not what you think. I didn’t know, I swear--” 

“Erick, it doesn’t matter what I think. Good talking to you and congratulations.” 

She turned to walk out of her way to get back home, not wanting to risk running into him again, and wondered why the fuck the universe was dangling babies in front of her today. Stirring in her purse to find her keys when she finally got home, she dropped her bags and began cooking dinner in a cloud of anxiety and worry. An unspoken conversation, a secret hung around her neck. 

\--

Millie had made a big tasty salad for them, not wanting to turn the oven on after all. She set both plates on the table before pulling her chair out and pouring herself a glass of pinot grigio. She wiped the sweat from her brow. Bucky asked about brunch, then steered the conversation to the photo. 

“That was pretty cute. How old is Michelle’s baby?”

“She’s 3 months. Still pretty little.” she said breezily, not looking up from her plate. 

“Yeah. You’ve never really been around one, have you?”

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re the baby. The youngest.” 

“True. Especially if you ask Liz.” she responded with a tight smile. 

Millie seemed on edge. He could feel her vibrating foot bouncing up and down under the table. LIke she knew he was going to bring it up, and she was worried he wouldn’t like her response. She cut him off at the pass. 

“I-I can’t. Have them,” she blurted, eyes moving from her plate to the ceiling. Anything to avoid having to expand on her comment, which she knew she would have to do regardless. 

He looked at her quizzically, his fork still in his hand, a wayward green bean falling off the tines and onto his plate with a saucy splat. 

“You mean--”

“Yeah.” 

He exhaled through his nose, putting his fork down with a soft tap. He got up and fell to his knees next to her. He took her hand, rubbing his thumb on the top in what he hoped were small, comforting circles. 

“Oh honey, I’m sorry.” 

“I found out early. I’m fine. Or I thought I was. I just...I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” he repeated, scowling slightly. 

“I never asked you if you wanted them. If you do, I--it’ll have to be with someone else.” 

“How old were you when you found out?” he asked her softly. 

“Young. Early 20s. I...haven’t really talked about it to anyone. I haven’t...needed to. Erick never brought it up again after I told him.” 

He raised her hand and pressed it to his lips. He knew a bit about what it was like to want desperately to talk about something candidly, to work through it and have someone listen. Bucky thought about the way he was treated by Tony Stark, the way Steve had left him, all of it adding up to a lot of things that were hard to keep pushed down. He rearranged his legs so he was sitting pretzel style, and pulled her from her chair into his lap, feeling her heart hammering in her chest.  _ Poor thing. Disappointed?  _ The word sat burned in his mind’s eye as he gathered her up and pulled her close. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he murmured into her hair. 

She looked up to him, a little confused, still used to indifference, still expecting it, even though she had months of proof that the man cradling her on the floor of her dining room was anything but indifferent to her. Old habits die hard. 

“I…” she began and trailed off, then cleared her throat, “I had a lot of fibroids they discovered in my early 20s. The surgeries to remove them caused a lot of scarring. I never knew if I wanted children, but having the choice taken away was not how I wanted to…” 

Pulling her to his chest, he waited for her to continue. 

“I ran into him today. And it’s like...I don’t care about what he does, but there’s a little part of me that wonders if this is why he treated me the way he did. And I guess--” she paused and swallowed thickly.

“It’s alright. I’m here.” 

She pulled away for a second and looked up at him smiling, her face splotchy. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. Can I say something?” 

She used the heel of her hand to tap underneath her eyes, as if she was trying to push the tears that threatened to spill over onto her face could be stopped that way and then nodded. He tucked a finger beneath her chin, pulling her face in a little bit closer. 

“Sweetheart. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself. I wanna know everything. Or everything that you want to tell me. Will you let me help?” 


	20. Chapter 20

Bucky had kept her in bed longer than she’d intended to stay that morning. And the shower. And she barely made it out the door with all the buttons on her sundress intact. Something about the summer, with its long balmy nights and the boundless energy of a city that endured a hell of a lot of snow coming out swinging in the warm weather, had made Bucky absolutely feral. When she assured him that morning that yes,  _ James _ , I do need to go to work, he looked absolutely pathetic. Like she’d sent him to bed without dessert. He walked her to the door and smacked her ass hard before bidding her farewell. 

“You’re a dog sometimes, you know that?” she teased. 

“Yeah, but I think you like it.” 

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, she bounded down the stairs and walked as fast as she could to school. 

And that’s how Millie was late to the first day of camp. Her students bustling when she walked in, she flipped open the binder of ideas Michelle shared with her to encourage free expression and “getting vulnerable” as actors. Millie had a hard time taking it seriously, but she was there to help young people interpret texts, and by god she was going to do it. 

Going deep into the bowels of secondary storage in the English Department office a few days prior, she found many printed copies of school plays of yore. She wanted her students to pick their own adventure. Each week, they were to prepare a scene. They’d choose the best ones for the parent’s showcase at the end of July. This allowed Millie to be a little more hands off and less responsible for sewing costumes. Plus there would be a lot less facilitating trust falls. 

She sat down in the front row with her legal pad to take notes, drinking iced coffee to try and stay cool. The theater was stifling and they still had a few hours of camp left. A junior who had taken Millie’s poetry elective took center stage and began Lady MacBeth’s Soliloquy.  _ Ambitious _ , Millie thought. She tripped up just a few lines in. 

“Ok, Kayla, why don’t you take it from the first stanza. You seemed to have it there! Just keep going!” 

After another attempt, Kayla nailed it. Or, as close as one could get having only read the text a few times, which made Millie’s heart swell. As much as she wished she was sitting in the woods or the mountains or honestly maybe just a different part of New York with Bucky, it was moments like this, watching her students enjoy the written word that reminded her why she wanted to teach in the first place. 

“Alright, I think that’s lunch! Did everyone bring one?” she called to the dozen or so students who signed up for the summer program, “Let me know you didn’t, we’ll get you sorted out. Can you handle me leaving you here for 5 minutes while I go get mine?” 

They were theater nerds, she knew they’d be fine if she stepped out to grab her lunch from the fridge in the teacher’s lounge. They’d all either start singing or crying, neither of which would involve fire or blood. She pulled her phone out of her pocket when she got to the hallway, checking her messages. 

**_I’m bored._ **

**_Buck. I’ve been gone for less than 4 hours._ ** **😂**

**_Well, there’s no one here to entertain me and I’ve already checked my email._ ** **😐**

**_Ugh, you need to go back to work._ **

**_Maybe, but who would have dinner waiting for you when you got home if I did that?_ **

**_I don’t know, could you introduce me to him?_ **

**_Very funny. See you soon, pretty girl._ **

\--- 

Bucky, having no official business to work on until J1NX was fully operational in a few weeks, was absolutely losing his mind. He tried to go to the office the first few days, but found himself being corralled out by Sharon. Leisure time was still a bit of a foreign concept to Bucky, so in the past week alone, he’d cleaned his entire apartment from floor to ceiling twice already. He’d been going for two runs a day, just to have more to do. In short, he wasn’t a man used to doing nothing. 

The day was already absolutely scorching when he saw her off that morning. The days were long, the nights were short. He didn’t really recognize himself in the state of relaxation that no obligations and being in love had given him. His hair was soft with a little more than usual wave to it, his skin tan. The assassin’s stance he’d honed with years of being on alert toned itself down, too. 

He even had laugh lines forming. From laughing. When he pointed them out, she went to her bathroom, rummaged around in a drawer until she returned with some comma shaped stick on patches she encouraged him to put on underneath his eyes to help. No, he explained, I’m happy they’re there. They both still put them on that night while they watched  _ The Witcher _ together, which Millie had to pause every 5 minutes to explain the plot and he thought the actor playing Geralt was kind of a clown, but he watched it because she liked it. 

He really loved his life, and he nearly said it out loud as he was cutting up vegetables for their dinner that afternoon . He was getting the boring stuff. Maybe not the way he imagined it when he was sleeping outside back in ‘44, since so much had changed culturally, but he had a great girl in his life who had taken him for who he was. His only regret was that he didn’t meet her sooner. 

He heard her tromping up the stairs a few minutes later, low cursing as he heard her looking for her keys. She jammed it into the lock of his apartment seconds later and opened the door, dropping her bag with a thud and kicking off her sandals, just as he was pulling the shakshuka he made for dinner out of the oven. 

“Hey Shakespeare. How’d it go?” he set the pan on a trivet to cool for a second, discarding the oven mitts so he could pull her into a hug. 

“Mmm, you smell nice,” she said into his t-shirt. 

“Yeah? 100% eau de moi,” he joked as he kissed the top her head, “are you hungry?” 

“I sure am. What a long fucking day. Thanks for cooking.” 

“Any time.” 

After changing into shorts and her favorite shirt, she regaled Bucky with tales of the theater, most of which involved embarrassing anecdotes of her students mispronouncing words. 

“It was...so funny,” she said with her sides heaving. 

“Are you allowed to laugh at them this much?” 

“Of course I am. At least in the comfort of my own--I mean your home.” 

He chuckled to himself as he gathered up the dishes and started to wash the dishes, which immediately resulted in her jumping up and helping him. 

“You don’t have to help me, hon, you worked all day.” 

“Nah, I know there’s no such thing as a free meal. Get out of here.” she picked up the sponge and shooed him out of the kitchen. 

“Alright, but I’m gonna take the trash down. Be right back.” 

He grabbed the bag and went out the back door, opening the wrought iron gate to the alley. He opened the dumpster and tossed the bag in before turning back to the gate when he heard it. 

It was a soft, pathetic mewing. He scowled, following the sound a few feet before crouching down to a sagging cardboard box. He carefully pulled up one of the flaps so he could see who or what was calling out to him. A pair of bright yellow eyes stared back at him, then this little creature meowed more forcefully than a moment ago. 

“Hey pal. What are you doing out here?” 

He held his hand out to the kitten, a little tiny thing with white fur covered in dirt, possibly indicating that he’d been outside for some time. The kitten pressed the side of its head into Bucky’s hand, rubbing up against him for a few moments. Bucky moved his hand to scratch under his chin, the kitten purring before turning over on its back. 

“You like that, huh? Where’s your mom? You’re too little to be out here by yourself.” 

He stood up and began to look around the alley for other kittens or the mother. The little kitten had ventured out of its cardboard home and joined Bucky in the search. No luck. 

He crouched down again to pet it again after feeling them brush up against his leg, curling their tail around his calf. Their yellow eyes looked up at him, pleading with him. Please, don’t leave me out here. He thought immediately of Millie. Did she like cats? Bringing the kitten inside for one night couldn’t hurt. Right? 

“All right. Needy little thing. Come on,” he bent down and scooped the kitten up and made his way back through the yard and up to his apartment.  _ It’s just one night,  _ he thought as he opened the door again. Millie had finished the dishes and was on the couch, her feet propped up on the coffee table. 

“Hey! What took you so long?” she turned then, and gasped when she saw the kitten curled up in the crook of his elbow, Bucky’s metal hand affectionately scratching the top of their head. 

“Oh. I see you made a friend,” she stood and walked cautiously over to them. The kitten turned to look up at her and Millie felt her heart breaking. Poor baby. 

“I was looking for the mother. I didn’t see her. I wonder if she got hit by a car or something.” 

“Maybe. Jeeze. She’s filthy.” Millie held her hand out to the kitten to let them smell her, the kitten leaning into touch just like they had to Bucky, “I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?” she said to the kitten. 

She turned to the fridge and opened it, scanning the shelves to something to give their guest. Bucky had some ground turkey sitting in the back of the fridge. That might work. 

“Can I cook a little bit of this? Do you maybe want to go wash her off in the tub?” 

_ Its a her. Ok, good to know.  _

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll go wash her off.” 

Millie could hear Bucky talking to the cat as she plopped the turkey into a skillet, taking two little bowls out of the cabinet, filling up one with water.  _ I guess we have a cat now.  _

“Yeah, see? That’s not so bad, huh? Much better,” he said, his voice so gentle, Millie hearing a tiny squeak in response. “Oh, careful. Now it’s time for the rinse! There ya go! Good girl.” 

Millie couldn’t help but smile. The Winter Soldier, in his bathroom, giving a tiny white kitten a bath, talking to her the whole time. He emerged a few minutes later, the kitten wrapped in a towel. 

“So what are we going to name her?” 

“You wanna keep her?” 

Bucky was surprised. He didn’t know what people did with stray animals now, but he figured they’d have to find her a home. He admitted to himself that when she looked up at him during her bath and meowed in protest at him as he dumped warm water on her, massaging out the dirt softly, that he did want to keep her. She found him, too, after all. 

“Well, I think you do. I’ve never heard you talk so sweetly to anyone.” she said with a smirk. 

“Hey, now that’s just plain not true. I talk sweet to you every day.” 

“I know, I’m just playing. What’s our little girl’s name?” 

He thought for a second. It should be cute. Maybe a little sassy.  _ Trixie? No. Cleo? Also no.  _ The kitten turned her yellow eyes to him again.  _ Daisy. White and yellow. Daisy.  _

“Daisy.” 

Millie turned her mouth down in thought for a second, then looked down at the little bundle of cat in Bucky’s arms. 

“You’re right. That’s Daisy,” she scratched the top of Daisy’s head, “You should probably put her down and let her try to eat. Who knows how long she’s been outside.” 

Bucky obliged, and Daisy dug right in, eating the turkey and almost draining the little bowl of water right away. 

“Well, I guess we better go get her some kitty food tomorrow. She’ll need a scratching post, a little bed.” Millie tapped her lips in thought for a second, “Come on Sarge, let’s make a list of what we’re going to need to get. She’s going to have to go to the vet, too.” 

That night, Daisy slept in the little nook between Bucky’s elbow and chest, while Millie was curled up in his other arm, her legs sprawled out akimbo in her matching shortie pajamas. He could hear both of them breathing shallowly. Surrounded by beautiful women. What a wonderful thing. 

\--- 

Millie had dropped Daisy off at the vet on her way to work that morning. Unceremoniously carrying her there in a tote bag, which would have to do until they got her a cat carrier, she explained the situation to the vet. 

Daisy got her shots, an appointment to be spayed, and a clean bill of health from the vet before Bucky picked her up and brought her home. He then went to meet Millie so they could get the rest of the supplies they needed. 

“No, we have to get her this one. That one looks too much like the box I found her in.” Bucky and Millie were at the pet store, trying to determine which little cat house they should get for Daisy, Millie insisting a simple one would be fine, and Bucky insisting the oblong shaped wicker one with a sheepskin pad in the bottom was absolutely the one they needed. “I don’t want her to think we’re gonna let her back outside or something.” 

“Ok. We’ll get this one, even though it’s twice as much as that one. Nothing’s too good for her, huh?” Millie poked fun at him, but secretly loved seeing how wrapped up in their new pet he was. He insisted on getting her a little collar with a bell. Pink, of course, with a name tag with their phone numbers. So she doesn’t get lost, honey. We can’t have her out on the streets again. 

Too much money and several overflowing shopping bags later, Daisy had everything a stray cat could want. She ran to the door when Bucky came back in, rubbing her head on his leg again in greeting. 

“I think I’ve got some competition now,” Millie joked, bending down to pet her. 

“Heh, maybe so. She’s certainly trying to ingratiate herself, huh?” 

“She is much younger than I am.” 

“True.” 

“Smaller, too.” 

“It's just my lot in life to be surrounded by beautiful women, baby. Now get up here and kiss me." 


End file.
